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In front was an old wretched-looking woman, exclaiming, ‘ Wha comes into 
folks* houses in this gate, attnis time o’ the night ('’’’ — Waverlkv, Part II. p. 181 . 







“ rhe Baillie started from his three-footed stool. . . . , ; flung his best wig out of tho 
Window . . . . ; chucked his cap to the ceiling, cr.ught it as it fell ; whistled Tullochgo- 
rum ; danced a Highland fling with inimitable gjace and agility, and then threw him- 
self exhausted into a chair, exclaiming, ‘Lady Wauverleyl ten thousand a year ths 
least penny 1 Lord preserve nsy poor underitam liigi ’"-WAVjtRLEr, Part II. p. IW. 



% 


WAVERLEY NOVELS; 

LIBRARY EDITIOIW 


• VOL. I. 

YVAVERLEY; 

OR, 

’TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE 


Under which king, Bezoiiian? speak, or die! 

Henry IF., Part II. 




\.0 


'-i.-e. 




mOM THE LAST REVISED EDITION, CONTAINING THE AUTUOi f 
FIN^YL CORRECTIONS, NOTES, &c. 


Parker’s edition. 





BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY BAZIN & ELLSWOPvTH, 

13 WASHINGTON STREET. 


GEORGE 



i 



rRIXTKD BY 

C. RAND & AVERY. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


It has been the occasional occupation of the Author of 
VVaverley, for several years past, to revise and correct the 
voluminous series of Novels which pass under that name ; 
in order that, if they should ever appear as his avowed pro- 
ductions, he might render them in some degree deserving 
of a continuance of the public favour with which they have 
been honoured ever since their first appearance. For a 
long period, however, it seemed likely that the improved and 
illustrated edition which he meditated would be a posthu- 
mous publication. But the course of the events which oc- 
casioned the disclosure of the Author’s name, having, in a 
great measure, restored to him a sort of parental control 
over these Works, he is naturally induced to give them to 
the press in a corrected, and, he hopes, an improved form, 
while life and health permit the task of revising and illus- 
trating them. Such being his purpose, it is necessary to 
.say a few words on the plan of the proposed Edition. 

In stating it to be revised and corrected, it is not to be 
inferred that any attempt is made to alter the tenor of the 
stories, the character of the actors, or the spirit of the dia- 
logue. There is, no doubt, ample room for emendation in 
all these points, — but where the tree falls it must lie. Any 
attempt to obviate criticism, however just, by altering a 
work already in the hands of the public, is generally un- 
successful. In the most improbable fiction, the reader still 
desires some air of vraiscmblaiict, and does not relish that 
ihe incidents of a tale familiar to him should be altered to 
suit the taste of critics, or the caprice of the Author him- 
self. This process of feeling is so natural, that it may be 
observed even in children, who cannot endure that a nursery 
story should be repeated to them differently from the man- 
ner in which it was first told. 

But without altering, in the slightest degree, either the 
story or tho mode of telling it, the Author has taken this 
opportunity to correct errors of the press and slips of the 
pen. That such should exist cannot be wondered at, when 


IV 


advertisement. 


it is considered that the Publishers found it their interest - j 
hurry through the press a succession of the early editions 
of the various Novels, and that the Author had not the usual 
opportunity of revision. It is hoped that the present edi- 
tion will be found free from errors of that accidental kind. 

The Author has also ventured to make some emendations 
of a different character, which, without being such apparent 
deviations from the original stories as to disturb the reader’s 
old associations, will, he thinks, add something to the spirit 
of the dialogue, narrative, or description. These consist 
ill occasional pruning where the language is redundant, 
compression where the style is loose, infusion of vigour 
where it is languid, the exchange of less forcible for more 
appropriate epithets — slight alterations in short, like the 
last touches of an Artist, which contribute to heighten and 
finish the picture, though an inexperienced eye can hardly 
detect in what they consist. 

The General Preface to the new Edition, and the Intro- 
ductory Notices to each separate work, will contain an ac- 
count of such circumstances attending the first publication 
of the Novels and Tales, as may appear interesting in them- 
selves, or proper to be communicated to the public. The 
Author also proposes to publish, on this occasion, the vari- 
ous legends, family traditions, or obscure historical facts, 
whicli have formed the ground-work of these Novels, and 
to give some account of the places where, the scenes are 
laid, when these are altogether, or in part, real ; as well as 
a statement of particular incidents founded on fact ; to- 
gether with a more copious Glossary, and Notes explanatory 
of the ancient customs, and popular superstitions, referred 
to in the Romances. 

Upon the whole, it is Imped that the Waverley Novels, in 
their new dress, will not be found to have lost any part ol 
their attractions in consequence of receiving illustrations 
by the Author, and undergoing his careful revision. 


Abbotsford, January, 1829 . 


GENERAL PREFACE 


And must I ravel out 

My wcaved-up follies ? 

Richard 11. Act 2V. 

• 

Having undertaken to give an Introductory Account ol 
the compositions which are here offered to the public, with 
Notes and Illustrations, the author, under whose name they 
are now for the first time collected, feels that he has the 
delicate task of speaking more of himself and his personal 
concerns, than may perhaps be either graceful or prudent. 
In this particular, he runs the risk of presenting himself to 
the public in the relation that the dumb wife in the jest-book 
held to her husband, when, having spent half of his fortune 
to obtain the cure of her imperfection, he was willing to 
have bestowed the other half, to restore her to her former 
condition. But this is a risk inseparable from the task 
which the author has undertaken, and he can only promise 
to be as little of an egotist as the situation will permit. It 
is perhaps an indifferent sign of a disposition to k>Dep his 
word, that having introduced himself in the third person 
singular, he proceeds in the second paragraph to make use 
of the first. But it appears to him that the seeming mod- 
esty connected with the former mode of writing, is over- 
balanced by the inconvenience of stiffness and affectation 
which attends it during a narrative of some length, and 
which may be observed less or more in every work in which 
the third person is used, from the Commentaries of Caisar, 
to the Autobiography of Alexander the Corrector. 

I must refer to a very early period of my life, were I to 
point out my first achievements as a tale-teller — but I be- 
lieve some of my old schoolfellows can still bear witness 
that I had a distinguished character for that talent, at a time 
when the applause of my companions was my recompense 
for the disgraces and punishments which the future romance- 
writer incurred for being idle himself, and keeping others 
idle, during hours that should have been employed on our 


6 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


tasks. The chief enjoyment of my holidays was to escape 
with a chosen friend, who had the same taste with myself, and 
alternately to recite to each other such wild adventures as we 
were able to devise. We told, each in turn, interminable tales 
of knight-errantry and battles and enchantments, which were 
continued from one day to another as opportunity offered, 
without our ever thinking of bringing them to a conclusion. 
As we observed a strict secrecy on the subject of this inter- 
course, it acquired all the character of a concealed pleasure, 
and we used to select, for the scenes of our indulgence, 
long walks through the solitary and romantic environs of 
Arthur’s Seat, Salisbury Crags, Braid Hills, and similar 
places in the vicinity of Edinburgh ; and the recollection of 
those holidays still forms an oasis in the pilgrimage which I 
have to look back upon. I have only to add, that my friend 
still lives, a prosperous gentleman, but too much occupied 
with graver business, to thank me for indicating him more 
plainly as a confidant of my childish mystery. 

When boyhood advancing into youth required more seri- 
ous studies and graver cares, a long illness threw me back on 
the kingdom of fiction, as if it were by a species of fatality. 
My indisposition arose, in part at least, from my having 
broken a blood-vessel. ; and motion and speech were for a 
long time pronounced positively dangerous. For several 
weeks I was confined strictly to my bed, during which time 
I was not allowed to speak above a whisper, to eat more 
than a spoonful or two of boiled rice, or to have more cov- 
ering than one thin counterpane. When the reader is in- 
formed that I was at this time a growing youth, with the 
spirits, appetite, and impatience of fifteen, and suffered, of 
course, greatly under this severe regimen, which the repeat- 
ed return of my disorder rendered indispensable, he will not 
be surprised that I was abandoned to my own discretion, so 
far as reading (my almost sole amusement) was concerned, 
and still less so, that I abused the indulgence which left my 
time so much at my own disposal. 

There was at this time a circulating library in Edinburgh 
founded, I believe, by the celebrated Allan Ramsay, which, 
besides containing a most respectable collection of books of 
every description, was, as might*have been expected, pecu- 
liarly rich in works of fiction. It exhibited specimens of 
every kind, from the romances of chivalry, and the ponder- 
o^is folios of Cvrus and Cassandra, down to the most ap' 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


7 


proved works of later times. I was plunged into this great 
ocean of reading without compass or pilot ; and unless when 
some one had the charity to play at chess with me, I was 
allowed to do nothing save read, from morning to night. J 
was, in kindness and pity, which was perhaps erroneous^ 
however natural, permitted to select my subjects of study at 
my own pleasure, upon the same principle that the humours 
of children are indulged to keep them out of mischief. As 
my taste and appetite were gratified in nothing else, I in- 
demnified myself by becoming a glutton of books. Accord- 
ingly, I believe 1 read almost all the romances, old plays, 
and epic poetry, in that formidable collection, and no doubt 
was unconsciously amassing materials for the task in which 
it has been my lot to be so much employed. 

At the same time I did not in all respects abuse the license 
permitted me. Familiar acquaintance with the specious 
miracles of fiction brought with it some degree of satiety, 
and I began, by degrees, to seek in histories, memoirs, voyages* 
and travels, and the like, events nearly as wonderful as 
those which were the work of imagination, with the addi- 
tional advantage that they were at least in a great measure 
true. The lapse of nearly two years, during which I was 
left to the exercise of my own free will, was followed by a 
temporary residence in the country ; where I was again very 
lonely but for the amusement which I derived from a good 
though old-fashioned library. The vague and wild use 
which I made of this advantage I cannot describe better than 
by referring my reader to the desultory studies of Waverley 
in a similar situation ; the passages concerning whose course 
of reading w'ere imitated from recollections of my ow n. — It 
must be understood that the resemblance extends no farther. 

Time, as it glided on, brought the blessings of confirmed 
health and personal strength, to a degree which had never 
been expected or hoped for. The severe studies necessary 
to render me fit for my profession occupied the greater part 
of my time ; and the society of my friends and companions 
w’ho were about to enter life along with me, filled up the 
interval, with the usual amusements of young men. I w^as 
in a situation which rendered serious labour indispensable ; 
for, neither possessing, on the one hand, any of those pecu- 
liar advantages which are supposed to favour a hasty advance 
in the profession of the law% nor being, on the other hand 
exposed to unusual obstacles to interrupt my progress, 1 


8 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


might reasonably expect to succeed according to the greater 
or less degree of trouble which I should take to qualify 
myself as a pleader. 

It makes no part of the present story to detail how the 
success of a few ballads had the effect of changing all the 
purpose and tenor of my life, and of converting a pains- 
taking lawyer of some years’ standing into a follower of 
literature. It is enough to say, that I had assumed the lat- 
ter character for several years before I seriously thought of 
attempting a work of imagination in prose, although one or 
two of my poetical attempts did not differ from romances 
otherwise than by being written in verse. But yet, I may 
observe, that about this time (now, alas ! thirty years since) 
I had nourished the ambitious desire of composing a tale 
of chivalry, which was to be in the style of the Castle of 
Otranto, with plenty of Border characters, and supernatural 
incident. Having found unexpectedly a chapter of this in- 
tended work among some old papers, I have subjoined it to 
this introductory essay, thinking some readers may account 
as curious, the first attempts at romantic composition by an 
author, who has since written so much in that departmenc.* 
And those who complain, not unreasonably, of the profusion 
of the Tales which have followed Waverley, may bless their 
stars at the narrow escape they have made, by the com- 
mencement of the inundation which had so nearly taken 
place in the first year of the century, being postponed for 
fifteen years later. 

This particular subject was never resumed, but I did not 
abandon the idea of fictitious composition in prose, though 
I determined to give another turn to the style of the work. 

My early recollections of the Highland scenery and cus- 
toms made so favourable an impression in the poem called 
the Lady of the Lake, that I was induced to think of at- 
tempting something of the same kind in prose. I had been 
a good deal in the Highlands at a time when they were much 
less accessible, and much less visited, than they have been 
of late years, and was acquainted with many of the old war- 
riors of 1745, who were, like most veterans, easily induced 
to fight their battles over again, for the benefit of a willing 
listener like myself. It naturally occurred to me, that the 
ancient traditions and high spirit of a people, who, living in 


.See the fraerment alluded to, in the Appendix, No. I. 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


9 


a civilized age and country, retained so strong a tincture of 
manners belonging to an early period of society, must afford 
a subject favourable for romance, if it should not prove a 
curious tale marred in the telling. 

It was with some idea of this kind, that, about the year 
1805, I threw together about one-third part of the first vol- 
ume of Waverley. It was advertised to be published by the 
late Mr. John Ballantyne, bookseller in Edinburgh, under 
the name of “ Waverley, or ’tis Fifty Years since,” — a title 
afterwards altered to “ Tis Sixty Years since,” that the actual 
date of publication might be made to correspond with the 
period in which the scene was laid. Having proceeded as 
far, I think, as the Seventh Chapter, I showed my work to a 
critical friend, whose opinion was unfavourable ; and having 
then some poetical reputation, I was unwilling to risk the 
loss of it by attempting a new style of composition. I there- 
fore threw aside the work I had commenced, without either 
reluctance or remonstrance. I ought to add, that though 
my ingenuous friend’s sentence was afterwards reversed, on 
an appeal to the public, it cannot be 'considered as any im- 
putation on his good taste ; for the specimen subjected to 
his criticism did not extend beyond the departure of the hero 
for Scotland, and, consequently, had not entered upon the 
part of the story which was finally found most interesting. 

Be that as it may, this portion of the manuscript was laid 
aside in the drawers of an old writing-desk, which, on my 
first coming to reside at Abbotsford, in 1811, was placed in 
a lumber garret, and entirely forgotten, llms, though 1 
sometimes, among other literary avocations, turned my 
thoughts to the continuation of the romance which I had 
commenced, yet as I could not find what I had already writ- 
ten, after searching such repositories as were within my 
reach, and was too indolent to attempt to write it anew from 
memory, I as often laid aside all thoughts of that nature. 

Two circumstances, in particular, recalled my recollection 
of the mislaid manuscript. The first was the extended and 
well-merited fame of Miss Edgeworth, whose Irish charac- 
ters have gone so far to make the English familiar with the 
character of their gay and kind-hearted neighbours of Ire- 
land, tliat she may be truly said to have done more towards 
completing the U.nion, than perhaps all the legislative et> 
nctments by which it lias been followed up. 


10 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


Without being so presumptuous as to liope to emulate the 
rich humour, pathetic tenderness, and adniirable tact, whicii 
pervade the works of my accomplished friend, I felt that 
something might be attempted for my own country, of the 
same kind with that which Miss Edgeworth so fortunately 
achieved for Ireland — something which might introduce her 
natives to those of the sister kingdom, in a more favourable 
light than they had been placed hitherto, and tend to pro- 
cure sympathy for their virtues and indulgence for their 
foibles. I thought also, that much of what 1 wanted in 
talent might be made up by the intimate acquaintance with 
the subject which I could lay claim to possess, as having 
travelled through most parts of Scotland, both Highland and 
Lowland ; having been familiar with the eider, as well as 
more modern race ; and having had from my infancy free 
and unrestrained communication with all ranks of my coun- 
trymen, from the Scottish peer to the Scottish ploughman. 
Such ideas often occurred to me, and constituted an ambi- 
tious branch of my theory, however far short 1 may have 
fallen of it in practice. 

But it was not only the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth 
which worked in me emulation, and disturbed my indolence. 
I chanced actually to engage in a wofk which formed a sort 
of essay piece, and gave me hope that I might in time be- 
come free of the craft of Romance-writing, and be esteemed 
a tolerable workman. 

In the year lSOT-8, I undertook, at the request of John 
Murray, Esq. of Albemarle-street, to arrange for publication 
some posthumous productions of the late Mr. Joseph Strutt, 
distinguished as an artist and an antiquary, amongst which 
was an unfinished romance, entitled “ Ciueen-Hoo-Hall.” 
The scene of the tale was laid in the reign of Henry VI., 
and the work was written to illustrate the manners, customs, 
and language of the })eople of England during that period. 
The extensive acquaintance which Mr. Strutt had acquired 
with such subjects in compiling his laborious “ Horda Angel 
Cynnan,” his “ Royal and Ecclesiastical Antiquities,” and 
his “ Essay on the Sports and Pastimes of the People ol 
England,” had rendered him familiar with all the antiquarian 
lore necessary for the purpose of composing the projected 
romance ; and although the manuscript bore the marks of 
hurry and incoherence natural to the first rough draught 
of the author, it evinced (in my opinion) considerable powers 
of in agination. 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


11 


As the Work was unfinished, I deemed it my duty, as 
Editor, to supply such a hasty and inartificial conclusion as 
could be shaped out from the story, of which Mr. Strutt had 
laid the foundation. This concluding chapter* is also added 
to the present Introduction, for the reason already mention 
ed regarding the preceding fragment. It was a step in my 
advance towards romantic composition ; and to preserve the 
traces of these is in a great measure the object of this Essay 

Queen-Hoo-Hall was not, however, very successful. I 
thought I was aware of the reason, and supposed that, by 
rendering his language too ancient, and displaying his anti- 
quarian knowledge too liberally, the ingenious author had 
raised up an obstacle to his own success. Every work de- 
signed for mere amusement must be expressed in language 
easily comprehended ; and when, as is sometimes the case 
ill Q,ueen-Hoo-IIall, the author addresses himself exclusively 
to the Antiquary, he must be content to be dismissed by the 
general reader with the criticism of Mungo, in the Padlock, 
on the Mauritanian music, “ What signifies me hear, if me 
no understand ?” 

I conceived it possible to avoid this error ; and by ren- 
dering a similar work more light and obvious to general 
comprehension, to escape the rock on which my predecessor 
was shipwrecked. But I was, on the other hand, so far dis- 
couraged by the indifferent reception of Mr. Strutt’s ro- 
mance, as to become satisfied that the manners of the middle 
ages did not possess the interest which I had conceived ; 
and was led to form the opinion that a romance, founded 
on a Highland story, and more modern events, would have 
a better chance of popularity than a tale of chivalry. My 
thoughts, therefore, returned more than once to the tale 
which I had actually commenced, and accident at length 
threw the lost sheets in my way. 

I happened to want some fishing-tackle for the use of a 
guest, when it occurred to me to search the old writing-desk 
already mentioned, in which I used to keep articles of that 
nature. I got access to it with some difficulty ; and, in 
looking for lines and flies, the long-lost manuscript presented 
itself. • I immediately set to work to complete it, according 
to my original purpose. And here I must fralikly confess 
that the mode in which I conducted the story scarcely do* 


See Appendix. No. IS. 


12 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


served the success which the romance afterwards attained. 
The tale of Waverley was put together with so little care, 
that I cannot boast of having sketched any distinct plan of 
the work. The whole adventures of Waverley, in his move- 
ments up and down the country with the Highland cateran 
Bean Lean, are managed without much skill. It suited best, 
however, the road I wanted to travel, and permitted me to 
introduce some descriptions of scenery and manners, to 
which the reality gave an interest which the powers of the 
author might have otherwise hiiled to attain for them: And 
though I have been in other instances a sinner in this sort, 
I do not recollect any of these novels, in which I have trans- 
gressed so widely as in the first of the series. 

Among other unfounded reports, it has been said that the 
copyright of Waverley was, during the book’s progress 
through the press, offered for sale to various booksellers in 
London at a very inconsiderable price. This Was not the 
case. Messrs. Constable and Cadell, who published the 
work, were the only persons acquainted with the contents of 
the publication, and they offered a large sum for it while in 
the course of printing, which, however, was declined, the 
author not choosing to part with the copyright. 

The origin of the story of Waverley, and the particular 
facts on which it is founded, are given in the separate intro- 
duction prefixed to that romance in this edi-tion, and require 
no notice in this place. 

Waverley was published in 1814, and as the title-page 
,vas. without the name of the author, tire work was left to 
win its way in the world without any of the usual recommen- 
dations. Its progress was for some time slow ; but after 
the first two or three months, its popularity had increased 
in a degree which must have satisfied the expectations of 
the author, had these been far more sanguine than he ever 
entertained. 

Great anxiety was expressed to learn the name of the au- 
thor, but on this no authentic information could be attained. 
My original motive for publishing the work anonymously, 
was the consciousness that it was an experiment on the 
public taste which might very probably fiiil, and therefore 
there was no occasion to take on myself the personal risk of 
discomfiture. For this purpose considerable precautions 
were used to preserve secrecy. My old friend and school- 
fellow, Mr. James Ballantyne, who printed these Novels^ had 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


J3 


file exclusive task of corresponding with the author, who 
thus had not only tlie advantage of his professional talents 
but also of his critical abilities. The original manuscript, 
or, as it is technically called, copy, was transcribed under 
Mr. Ballantyne’s eye by confidential persons ; nor was there 
an instance of treachery during the many years in which 
these precautions were resorted to, although various indi- 
viduals were employed at diflferent times. Double proof- 
sheets were regularly printed off. One was forwarded to 
the author by Mr. Ballantyne, and the alterations which it 
received were, by his own hand, copied upon the other proof- 
sheet for the use of the printers, so that even the corrected 
proofs of the author were never seen in the printing-office ; 
and thus the curiosity of such eager inquirers as made the 
most minute investigation^ w’as entirely at fault. 

But although the cause of concealing the author’s name 
in the first instance, when the reception of Waverley was 
doubtful, was natural enough, it is more difficult, it may be 
thought, to account for the same desire for secrecy during 
the subsequent editions, to the amount of betwixt eleven 
and twelve thousand copies, which followed each other close, 
and proved the success of the work. I am sorry I can give 
little satisfaction to queries on this subject. I have already 
stated elsewhere, that I can render little better reason for 
choosing to remain anonymous, than by saying with Shy- 
lock, that such was my humour. It will be observed, that I 
had not the usual stimulus for desiring personal reputation, 
the desire, namely, to float amidst the conversation of men. 
Of literary fame, whether merited or undeserved, I had 
already as much as might have contented a mind more am- 
bitious than mine ; and in entering into this new contest for 
reputation, I might be said rather to endanger what I had, 
than to have any considerable chance of acquiring more. 
I was affected, too, by none of those motives which, at an 
earlier period of life, would doubtless have operated upon 
me. My friendships were formed, — my place in society fix- 
ed, — my life had attained its middle course. My condition 
in society was higher perhaps than I deserved, certainly as 
high as 1 wished, and there was scarce any degree of literary 
success which could have greatly altered or improved my 
personal condition. 

I was not, therefore, touched by the spur of ambition, 
'jsually Btirnul itiug on such occasions : and yet T oughv fo 


14 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


Stand exculpated from the charge of ungracious or unbe» 
coming indilference to public applause. I did not the less 
feel gratitude for the public favour, although I did not pro- 
claim it, — as the lover who wears his mistress’s favour in his 
busom, is as proud, though not so vain of possessing it, as 
another who displays the token of her grace upon his bonnet. 
F\ar from such an ungracious state of mind, I have seldom 
felt more satisfaction than when, returning from a pleasure 
voyage, 1 found Waverley in the zenith of popularity, and 
j)ublic curiosity in full cry after the name of the author. 
The knowledge that I had the public approbation, was like 
having the property of a hidden treasure, not less gratifying 
to the owner than if all the world knew that it was his own. 
Another advantage was connected with the secrecy which I 
observed. I could appear, or retreat from the stage at plea- 
sure, without attracting any personal notice or attention, 
other than what might be founded on suspicion only. In 
my own person also, as a successful author in another de- 
partment of literature, I might have been charged with too 
fre<]uent intrusions on the public patience ; but the Author 
of Waverley was in this respect as impassible to the critic as 
the Ghost of Hamlet to the partisan of Marcell us. Perhaps 
the curiosity of the public, irritated by the existence of a 
secret, and kept afloat by the discussions which took place 
on the subject from time to time, went a good way to main- 
tain an unabated interest in these frequent publications. 
There was a mystery concerning the author, which each 
new novel was expected to assist in unravelling, although it 
might in other respects rank lower than its predecessors. 

1 may perhaps be thought guilty of affectation, should I 
allege as one reason of my silence, a secret dislike to enter 
on personal discussions concerning my own literary labours. 
It is in every case a dangerous intercourse for an author to 
be dwelling continually among those who make his writings 
a frequent and familiar subject of conversation, but who 
must necessarily be partial judges of works composed in 
their own society. The habits of self-importance, which 
are thus acquired by authors, are highly injurious to a well- 
regulated mind ; for the cup of flattery, if it does not, like 
that of Circe, reduce men to the level of beasts, is sure, if 
eagerly drained, to bring the best and the ablest down to 
that of fools. This risk was in some degree prevented by 
\he mask which I wore ; and my own stores of self-conceil 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


15 


were left to their natural course, without being enhanced by 
the partiality of friends, or adulation of flatterers. 

If I am asked further reasons for the conduct I have^long 
observed, I can only resort to the explanation supplied* by a 
critic as friendly as he is intelligent ; namely, that the menta, 
organization of the Novelist must be characterized, to speak 
craniologically, by an extraordinary developement of the 
passion for delitescency ! I the rather suspect some natural 
disposition of this kind ; for, from the instant I perceived 
the extreme curiosity manifested on the subject, I felt a 
secret satisfaction in baffling it, for which, when its unim- 
portance is considered, I do not well know liow to account. 

My desire to remain concealed, in the character of the 
Autlior of these Novels, subjected me occasionally to awk- 
ward embarrassments, as it sometimes happened that those 
who were sufficiently intimate with me, would put the ques- 
tion in direct terms. In this case, only one of three courses 
could be followed. Either I must have surrendered my 
secret, — or have returned an equivocating answer, — or, 
finally, must have stoutly and boldly denied the fact. The 
first was a sacrifice which I conceive no one had a right to 
force from me, since I alone was concerned in the matter 
The alternative of rendering a doubtful answer must have 
left me open to the degrading suspicion that I was not un- 
willing to assume the merit (if there was any) which I dared 
not absolutely lay claim to ; or those who might think more 
justly of me, must have received such an equivocal answer 
as an indirect avowal. I therefore considered myself en- 
titled, like an accused person put upon trial, to refuse giving 
my own evidence to my own conviction, and flatly to deny 
all that could not be proved against me. At the same time 
I usually qualified my denial by stating, that, had I been the 
author of these works, I would have felt myself quite entitled 
to protect my secret by refusing my own evidence, when it 
was asked for to accomplish a discovery of what I desired 
to conceal. 

The real truth is, that I never expected or hoped to dis- 
guise my connexion with these Novels from any one who 
lived on terms of intimacy with me. The number of coin- 
cidences which necessarily existed between narratives re- 
counted, modes of expression, and opinions broached in 
these Tales, and such as were used by their author in the 
intercourse of private life, must have been far too great to 


16 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


permit any of my familiar acquaintances to doubt the identity 
betwixt their friend and the Autlior of Waverley ; and I 
believe, they were all morally convinced of it. But while 1 
was myself silent, their belief could not weigh much more 
vdth the world than that of others ; their opinions and rea- 
soning were liable to be taxed with partiality, or confronted 
with opposing arguments and opinions ; and the question 
was not so much, whether I should be generally acknow- 
ledged to be the author, in spite of my own denial, as 
whether even my own avowal of the works, if such should 
be made, would be sufficient to put me in undisputed pos- 
session of that character. 

1 have been often asked concerning supposed cases, in 
which I was said to have been placed on the verge of dis- 
covery ; but, as I maintained my point with the composure 
of a lawyer of thirty years’ standing, I never recollect being 
in pain or confusion on the subject. In Captain Medwyn’s 
Conversations of Lord Byron, the reporter states himself to 
have asked my noble and highly-gifted friend, “ If he was 
certain about these Novels being Sir Walter Scott’s?” To 
which Lord Byron replied, “ Scott as much as owned him- 
self the Author of Waverley to me in Murray’s shop. I 
was talking to him about that novel, and lamented that its 
author had not carried back the story nearer to the time of 
the Revolution — Scott, entirely off his guard, replied, ‘ Ay, 
I might have done so ; but — ’ there he stopped. It was in 
vain to attempt to correct himself; he looked confused, and 
relieved his embarrassment by a precipitate retreat.” I 
liave no recollection whatever of this scene taking place, 
and I should have thought that I was more likely to have, 
laughed than to appear confused, fori certainly never hoped 
to impose upon Lord Byron in a case of the kind ; and from 
the manner in which he uniformly expressed himself, I knew 
his opinion was entirely formed, and that any disclamations 
of mine would only have savoured of affectation. I do not 
mean to insinuate that the incident did not happen, but only 
that it could hardly have occurred exactly under the circum- 
stances narrated, without my recollecting something positive 
on the subject. In another part of the same volume. Lord 
Byron is reported to have expressed a supposition that the 
cause of my not avowing myself the Author of Waverley 
may have been some surmise that the reigning family would 
have been displeased with the, work. I can only say, it, is 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


17 


the last apprehension I should have entertained, as indeed 
the inscription of these volumes sufficiently proves. The 
sufferers of that melancholy period have, during the last and 
present reign, been honoured both with the sympathy and 
protection of the reigning family, whose magnanimity can 
well pardon a sigh from others, and bestow one themselves, 
to the memory of brave opponents, wffio did nothing in hate, 
but all in honour. 

While those who were in habitual intercourse with the 
real author had little hesitation in assigning the literary 
property to him, others, and those critics of no mean rank, 
employed themselves in investigating with persevering pa- 
tience any characteristic features which might seem to 
betray the origin of these Novels. Amongst these, one gen- 
tleman, equally remarkable for the kind and liberal tone of 
his criticism, the acuteness of his reasoning, and the very 
gentlemanlike manner in which he conducted his inquiries, 
displayed not only powers of accurate investigation, but a 
temper of mind deserving to be employed on a subject of 
much greater importance ; and I have no doubt made con- 
verts to his opinion of almost all who thought the point 
worthy of consideration.* Of those letters, and other at- 
tempts of the same kind, the author could not complain, 
tho \gh his incognito was, endangered. He had challenged 
the public to a game at bo-peep, and if he was discovered in 
his “ hiding-hole,” he must submit to the .shame of detection. 

Various reports were of course circulated in various ways ; 
some founded on an inaccurate rehearsal of what may have 
been partly real, some on circumstances having no concern 
whatever with the subject, and others on the invention of 
some importunate persons, who might perhaps imagine, that 
the readiest mode of forcing the author to disclose himself, 
was to assign some dishonourable and discreditable cause 
for his silence. 

It may be easily supposed, that this sort of inquisition was 
treated with contempt by the person whom it principall) 
regarded ; as, among all the rumours that were current 
there was only one, and that as unfounded as the others, 
which had nevertheless some alliance to probability, aiicli 
indeed might have proved in some degree true. 

I allude to a report which ascribed a great part, or the 


^ Letters on the Author of Waverley ; p.odwell and Martin, London, 182S 


18 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


whole, of these Novels to the late Thomas Scott, Esq., ol 
the 70th regiment, then stationed in Canada. Those who 
remember that gentleman will readily grant, that, with gen- 
eral talents at least equal to those of his elder brother, ho. 
added a power of social humour, and a deep insight into 
human character, which rendered him an universally delight- 
ful member of society, and that the habit of composition 
alone was wanting to render him equally successful as a 
writer. The author of V/averley was so persuaded of the 
truth of this, that he warmly pressed his brother to make 
such an experiment, and willingly undertook all the trouble 
of correcting and superintending the press. Mr. Thomas 
Scott seemed at first very well disposed to embrace the pro- 
posal, and had even fixed on a subject and a hero. The 
latter was a person well known to both of us in our boyish 
years, from having displayed some strong traits of character. 
Mr. T. Scott had determined to represent his youthful ac- 
quaintance as emigrating to America, and encountering the 
dangers and hardships of the New World, with the same 
dauntless spirit which he had displayed when a boy in his 
native country. Mr. Scott would probably have been highly 
successful, being familiarly acquainted with the manners of 
the native Indians, of the old French settlers in Canada, 
and of the Brules or Woodsmen, and having the pow er of 
observing with accuracy wdiat, I have no doubt, he could 
have sketched with force and expression. In short, the 
author believes his brother would have made himself distin- 
guished in that striking field, in w hich, since that period, 
Mr. Cooper has achieved so many triumphs. But Mr. T. 
Scott w^as already affected by bad health, wdiich wholly un- 
fitted him for literary labour, even if he could have recon- 
ciled his patience to the task. He never, I believe, WTote a 
single line of the projected work ; and I only have the mel- 
ancholy pleasure of preserving in the Appendix,^ the simple 
anecdote on which he proposed to found it. 

To this I may add, 1 can easily conceive that there may 
have been circumstances wdiich gave a coloui to the general 
report of my brother being interested in these works ; and 
in particular that it might derive strength from my having 
occasion to remit to him, in consequence of certain family 
transactions, some considerable sums of money about that 


* Sec Appendix. No. III. 


OENERAL PREFACE. 


19 


period. • To which it is to be added that if any person 
chanced to evince particular curiosity on such a subject, rrij 
brother was lilTely enough to divert himself witli practising 
on their credulity. 

It may be mentioned, that while the paternity of tliese 
novels was from time to time warmly disputed in Britain, the 
foreign booksellers expressed no hesitation on the matter, 
but affixed my name to the whole of the novels, and to some 
besides to which I had no claim. 

The volumes, therefore, to which the present pages form 
a Preface, are entirely the composition of the author by 
whom they are now acknowledged, with the exception, al- 
ways, of avowed quotations, and such unpremeditated and 
involuntary plagiarisms as can scarce be guarded against 
by any one who has read and written a great deal. The 
original manuscripts are all in existence, and entirely written 
(horresco rvfercns) in the author’s own hand, excepting dur- 
ing the years 1818 and 1819, when, being affected' with 
severe illness, he was obliged to employ the assistance of a 
friendly amanuensis. 

The number of persons to whom the secret was neces- 
sarily intrusted, or communicated by chance, amounted 1 
should think to twenty at least, to whom I am greatly obliged 
for the fidelity with which they observed their trust, until 
the derangement of the affairs of my publishers, Messrs. 
Constable and Co., and the exposure of their accornpt books, 
which was the necessary consequence, rendered secrecy no 
longer possible. The particulars attending the avowal have 
been laid before the public in the Introduction to the Chron- 
icles of the Canongate. 

The preliminary advertisement has given a sketch of the 
purpose of this edition. I have some reason to fear that the 
notes which accompany the tales, as now published, may be 
thought too miscellaneous and too egotistical. It may be 
some apology for this, that the publication was intended to 
l)e posthumous, and still more, that old men may be permitted 
lo speak long, because they cannot in the course of nature 
hav^ long time to speak. In preparing the present edition 
I have done all that I can do to explain the nature of my 
materials, and the use I have made of them ; nor is it proba- 
ble that I shall again revise or even read these talcs. I was 
therefore desirous rather to exceed in the portion of new 
and explanatory matter which is added to this edition, than 


20 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


that the reader should have reason to complain that the in- 
formation communicated was of a general and merely nom- 
inal character. It remains to be tried whether the public 
(like a child to whom a watch is shown) will, after having 
been satiated with looking at the outside, acquire some new 
interest in the object when it is opened, and the internal 
machinery displayed to them. 

That Waverley and its successors have had their day of 
favour and popularity must be admitted with sincere grati- 
tude ; and the author has studied (with the prudence of a 
beauty whose reign has been rather long) to supply, by the 
assistance of art, the charms which novelty no longer affords. 
The publishers have endeavoured to gratify the honourable 
partiality of the public for the encouragement of British art, 
by illustrating this edition with designs by the most eminent 
living artists. 

To my distinguished countryman, David Wilkie, to Edwin 
Landseer, who has exercised his talents so much on Scottish 
subjects and scenery, to Messrs. Leslie and Newton, my 
thanks are due, from a friend as well as an author. Nor am 
I less obliged to Messrs. Cooper, Kidd, and other artists of 
distinction to whom I am less personally known, for the 
ready zeal with which they have devoted their talents to the 
same purpose. 

Farther explanation respecting the Edition, is the business 
of the publishers, not of the author ; and Iwre, therefore, 
the latter has accomplished his task of introduction and 
explanation. If, like a spoiled child, he has sometimes 
abused or trifled with the indulgence of the public, he feels 
himself entitled to full belief, when he exculpates himself 
from the charge of having been at any time insensible of 
their kindness. 

Abbotsford, > 

lit January y \ 


APPENDIX. NO. I.* 


FRAGMENT OF A ROMANCE WHICH WAS TO HAVE 
BEEN ENTITLED, 

THOMAS THE RHYMER. 


CHAPTER I. 

The sun was nearly set behind the distant ino»intains of 
Liddesdale, when a few of the scattered and terrified inhab- 
itants of the village of Ilersildoun, which had four days 
before been burned by a predatory band of English Border- 
ers, were now busied in repairing their ruined dwellings. 
One high tower in the centre of the village alone exhibited 
no appearance of devastation. It was surrounded with court 
walls, and the outer gate was barred and bolted. The 
bushes and brambles wliich grew around, and had even in- 
sinuated their branches beneath the gate, plainly showed 
that it must have been many years since it had been opened. 
While the cottages around lay in smoking ruins, this pile, 
deserted and desolate as it seemed to be, had suftered noth- 
ing from the violence of the invaders ; and the wretched 
beings who were endeavouring to repair their miserable huts 
against nightfall, seemed to neglect the preferable shelter 
which it might have afforded them, without the necessity of 
labour. 

Before the day had quite gone down, a knight, richly 
armed, and mounted upon an ambling hackney, rode slowly 
into the village. His attendants were a lady, apparently 
young and beautiful, who rode by his side upon a dappled 
palfrey ; his squire, who carried his helmet and lance, and 
led his battle-horse, a noble steed, richly caparisoned. A 
page and four yeomen, bearing bows and quivers, short 

It is not to be supposed that these frag-ments are given as possessiv.g any 
ntrinsie value of themselves ; but there may be some curiosity attached to 
them, as to the first etchings of a plate, which are accounted interesting by 
those who have, in any degree, been interested in the more finished works of 
the artist. 


22 


APPENDIX TO 


swords, and targets of a span lireadth, completed his equipage^ 
which, though small, denoted him to be a man of high rank. 

He stopped and addressed several of the inhabitants whom 
curiosity had withdrawn from their labour to gaze at him , 
but at the sound of his voice, and still more on perceiving 
the St. George’s cross in the caps of his followers, they fled, 
with a loud cry, “ that the Southrons were returned.” The 
knight endeavoured to expostulate with the fugitives, who 
were chiefly aged men, women, and children ; but their 
dread of the English name accelerated their flight, and in a 
few minutes, excepting the knight and his attendants, the 
place was deserted by all. He paced through the village to 
seek a shelter for the night, and despairing to find one either 
in the inaccessible tower, or the plundered huts of the peas- 
antry, he directed his course to the left hand, where he spied 
a small decent habitation, apparently the abode of a man 
considerably above the common rank. After much knock- 
ing, the proprietor at length showed himself at the window, 
and speaking in the English dialect, with great signs of ap- 
prehension, demanded their business. The warrior replied, 
that his quality was an English knight and baron, and that 
he was travelling to the court of the King of Scotland on 
affairs of consequence to both kingdoms. 

“ Pardon my hesitation, noble Sir Knight,” said the old 
man, as he unbolted and unbarred his doors — “ Pardon my 
hesitation, but we are here exposed to too many intrusions, 
to admit of our exercising unlimited and unsuspicious hos- 
})itality. What I have is yours ; and God send your mission 
may bring back peace and the good days of our old Queen 
Margaret !” 

“ Amen, worthy Franklin,” quoth the Knight — “ Did you 
know her ?” 

“ I came to this country in her train,” said the Franklin ; 

and the care of some of lifer jointure lands which she de- 
volved on me, occasioned my settling here.” 

“ And how do you, being an Englishman,” said the 
Knight, “ protect your life and property here, when one of 
your nation cannot obtain a single night’s lodging, or a 
draught of water, were he thirsty ?” 

“ Marry, noble sir,” answered the Franklin, ‘‘ use, as- 
they say, will make a man live in a lion’s den ; and as I 
settled here in a quiet time, and have never given cause of 
offence, I am respected by my neighbours, and even, as you 
see, by our for ai/er.'i from England.” 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


23 


“ I rejoice to hear it, and accept your hospitahty.— Isa- 
bella, my love, our worthy host will provide you a bed. My 
daughter, good Franklin, is ill at ease. We will occupy 
your house till the Scottish King shall return from his north- 
ern expedition — meanwhile call me Lord Lacy of Chester.” 

The attendants of the Baron, assisted by the Franklin, 
were now busied in disposing of the horses, and arranging 
the table for some refreshment for Lord Lacy and his fair 
companion. While they sat down to it, they were attended 
by their host and his daughter, whom custom did not permit 
to eat in their presence, and who afterwards withdrew to an 
outer chamber, where the squire and page (both young men 
of noble birth) partook of supper, and were accommodated 
with beds. The yeomen, after doing honour to the rustic 
cheer of Queen Margaret’s bailiff, withdrew to the stable, 
and each, beside his favourite horse, snored away the fatigues 
of their journey. 

Early on the following morning, the travellers were roused 
by a thundering knocking at the door of the house, accom- 
panied with many demands for instant admission, in the 
roughest tone. The squire and page of Lord Lacy, after 
buckling on their arms, were about to sally out to chastise 
these intruders, when the old host, after looking out at a 
private casement, contrived for reconnoitring his visiters, 
entreated them, with great signs of terror, to be quiet, if 
they did not mean that all in the house should be murdered. 

He then hastened to the apartment of Lord Lacy, whom 
he met dressed in a long furred gown and the knightly cap 
called a morticr, irritated at the noise, and demanding to 
know the cause which had disturbed the repose of the house- 
hold. 

Noble Sir,” said the Franklin, “ one of the most for- 
midable and bloody of the Scottish Border riders is at hand 
— he is never seen,” added he, faltering with terror, “ so far 
from the hills, but with some bad purpose, and the power of 
accomplishing it, so hold yourself to your guard, for ” 

A loud crash here announced that the door was broken 
down, and the knight just descended the stair in time to 
prevent bloodshed betwixt his attendants and the intruders. 
They were three in number — their chief was tall, bony, and 
athletic, his spare and muscular frame, as well as the hard 
ness of his features, marked the course of his life to have 
been fatiguing and perilous. The effect of his appearance 
wa^’ aggravated by his dress, which consisted of a jack or 


24 


API'ENDIX TO 


jacket, composed of thick buff leather, on which small plates 
of iron of a lozenge form were stitched, in such a manner 
as to overlap each other, and form a coat of mail, which 
swayed with every motion of the wearer’s body. This de- 
fensive armour covered a doublet of coarse gray cloth, and 
the Borderer had a few half-rusted plates of steel on his 
shoulders, a two-edged sword, with a dagger hanging beside 
it, in a buff belt — a helmet, with a few iron bars, to cover 
the face instead of a visor, and a lance of tremendous and 
uncommon length, completed his appointments. The looks 
of the man were as wild and rude as his attire — his keen 
black eyes never rested one moment fixed upon a single 
object, but constantly traversed all around, as if they ever 
sought some danger to oppose, some plunder to seize, or 
some insult to revenge. The latter seemed to be his present 
object, for, regardless of the dignified presence of Lord 
Lacy, he uttered the most incoherent threats against the 
owner of the house and his guests. 

“ We shall see — ay, marry shall we — if an English hound 
is to harbour and reset the Southrons here. Thank the 
Abbot of Melrose, and the good Knight of Coldingnow, 
that have so long kept me from your skirts. But those days 
are gone, by St. Mary, and you shall find it !” 

It is probable the enraged Borderer would not have long 
continued to vent his rage in empty menaces, had not the 
entrance of the four yeomen, with their bows bent, convinced 
nim that the force was not at this moment on his o\\m side. 

Lord Lacy now advanced towards him. “ You intrude 
upon my privacy, soldier ; withdraw yourself and your fol- 
k>wers — there is peace betwixt our nations, or my servants 
should chastise thy presumption.” 

“ Such peace as ye give such shall you have,” answered 
the moss-trooper, first pointing with his lance towards the 
burned village, and then almost instantly levelling it against 
Lord Lacy. The squire drew his sword, and severed at one 
blow the steel head from the truncheon of the spear. 

“ Arthur Fitzherbert,” said the Baron, “ that stroke has 
deferred thy knighthood for one year — never must that squire 
wear the spurs whose unbridled impetuosity can draw un- 
bidden his sword in the presence of his master. Go hence, 
and think on what I have said.” 

The squire left the chamber abashed. 

“ It were vain,” continued Lord Lacy, “ to eynect that 
courtesy from a mountain churl which even my oi»n follow 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


25 


ers call forget. Yet, before thou drawest thy brand, (for 
the intruder laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword,) thou 
wilt do well to reflect that I came with a safe-conduct from 
thy king, and have no time to waste in brawls with such as 
thou.” 

“ From my king — from my king !” re-echoed the moun- 
taineer. “ I care not that rotten truncheon (striking the 
shattered spear furiously on the ground) for the King of Fife 
and Lothian. But Habby of Cessford will be here belive ; 
and we shall soon know if he will permit an English churl 
to occupy his hostelrie.” 

Having uttered these words, accompanied with a lowering 
gh\nce from under his shaggy black eyebrows, he turned on 
his heel, and left the house with his two followers ; — they 
mounted their horses, which they had tied to an outer fence, 
and vanished in an instant. 

“ Who is this discourteous ruffian ?” said Lord Lacy to 
the Franklin, who had stood in the most violent agitation 
during this whole scene. 

“ His name, noble lord, is Adam Kerr of the Moat, but 
he is commonly called by his companions, the Black Rider 
of Cheviot. I fear, I fear, he comes hither for no good — 
but if the Lord of Cessford be near, he will not dare offer 
any unprovoked outrage.” 

“ I have heard of that chief,” said the Baron — “ let me 
know when he approaches, and do thou, Rodulph, (to the 
eldest yeoman,) keep a strict watch. Adelbert, (to the page,) 
attend to arm me.” The page bowed, and the Baron with- 
drew to the chamber of the Lady Isabella, to explain the 
cause of the disturbance. 

* # * ^ 

No more of the proposed tale was ever written ; but the 
author’s purpose was, that it should turn upon a fine legend 
of superstition, which is current in the part of the Borders 
where he had his residence ; where, in the reign of Alex- 
ander III. of Scotland, that renowned person Thomas of 
Hersildoune, called the Rhymer, actually flourished. This 
personage, the Merlin of Scotland, and to whom some of 
the adventures which the British bards assigned to Merlin 
Caledonius, or the Wild, have been transferred by tradition, 
was, as is well known, a magician, as well as a poet and 
prophet. He is alleged still to live in the land of Faery, and 
2 


26 


APPENDIX TO 


is expected to return at some great convulsion of society, in 
'vhich he is to act a distinguished part, a tradition common 
to all nations, as the belief of the Mahomedans respecting 
their twelfth Imaum demonstrates. 

Now, it chanced many years since, that there lived on the 
Borders a jolly, rattling horse-cowper, who was remarkable 
for a reckless and fearless temper, which made him much 
admired, and a little dreaded, amongst his neighbours. One 
mooniio:ht night, as he rode over Bowden Moor, on the west 
side of the Eildon Hills, the scene of Thomas the Rhymer’s 
prophecies, and often mentioned in his story, having a brace 
of horses along with him which he had not been able to dis- 
pose of, he met a man of venerable appearance, and singu- 
larly antique dress, who, to his great surprise, asked the 
price of his horses, and began to chaffer with him on the 
subject. To Canobie Dick, for so shall we call our Border 
dealer, a chap was a chap, and he would have sold a horse 
to the devil himself, without minding his cloven hoof, and 
would have probably cheated Old Nick into the bargain. 
The stranger paid the price they agreed on, and all that puz- 
zled Dick in the transaction was, that the gold which he 
received was in unicorns, bonnet-pieces, and other ancient 
coins, which would have been invaluable to collectors, but 
were rather troublesome in modern currency. It was gold, 
however, and therefore Dick contrived to get better value 
for the coin, than he perhaps gave to his customer. By the 
command of so g6od a merchant, he brought horses to the 
same spot more than once ; the purchaser only stipulating 
that he should always come by night, and alone. I do not 
know whether it was from mere curiosity, or whether some 
hope of gain mixed with it, but after Dick had sold several 
horses in this way, he began to complain that dry bargains 
were unlucky, and to hint, that since his chap must live in 
the neighbourhood, he ought, in the courtesy of dealing, to 
treat him to half a rnutchkin. 

“ You may see my dwelling if you will,” said the stran- 
ger ; “ but if you lose courage at what you see there, you 
will rue it ail your life.” 

Dicken, however, laughed the warning to scorn, and hav- 
ing alighted to secure his horse, he followed the stranger up 
a narrow foot-path, which led them up the hills to the singu- 
lar eminence stuck betwixt the most southern and the centre 
peaks, and called from its r^semblance to such an animal in 
its form, the Lucken Hare. At the foot of this eminence^ 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


27 


which is almost as famous for witch meetings as the neigh- 
bour ng windmill of Kippilaw, Dick was somewhat startled 
to observe that his conductor entered the hill side by a pas- 
sage or cavern, of which he himself, though well acquainted 
with the spot, had never seen or heard. 

“ You may still return,” said his guide, looking ominous- 
ly back upon him ; but Dick scorned to show the white 
feather, and on they went. They entered a very long range 
of stables ; in every stall stood a coal-black horse ; by every 
horse lay a knight in coal-black armour, with a drawn sword 
in his hand, but all were as silent, hoof and limb, as if they 
had been cut out of marble. A great number of torches 
Lent a gloomy lustre to the hall, which, like those of the 
Caliph Vathek, was of large dimensions. At the upper end, 
however, they at length arrived, where a sword and horn lay 
on an antique table. 

“ He that shall sound that horn and draw that sword,” 
•^aid the stranger, who now intimated that he was the famous 
Thomas of Hersildoune, “ shall, if his heart fail him not, 
be king over all broad Britain. So speaks the tongue that 
cannot lie. But all depends on courage, and much on your 
taking the sword or the horn first.” 

Dick was much disposed to take the sword, but his bold 
spirit was quailed by the supernatural terrors of the hall, and 
he thought to unsheath the sword first, might be construed 
into defiance, and .give olfence to the powers of the Moun- 
tain. He took the bugle with a trembling hand, and sounded 
a feeble note, but loud enough to produce a terrible answer. 
Thunder rolled in stunning peals through the immense hall ; 
horses and men started to life; the steeds snorted, stamped, 
grinded their bits, and tossed on high their heads — the war- 
riors sprung to their feet, clashed their armour, and brandish- 
ed their swords. Dick’s terror was extreme at seeing the 
whole army, which had been so lately silent as the grave, 
in uproar, and about to rush on him. He dropped the horn, 
and made a feeble attempt to seize the enchanted sword ; 
but at the same moment a voice pronounced aloud the 
mysterious words : 

Wo to llie cowTird, that ever he was born, 

Who did not draw tlie sword before he blew the horn 

At the same time a whirlwind of irresistible fury howled 
through the^long hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey 
clear out of the mouth of the cavern, and precipitated him 
over a steep bank of loose stones, where the shepherds found 


APPENDIX TO 


him the next morning, with just breath sufficient to tell his 
fearful tale, after concluding which he expired. 

This legend, with several variations, is found in mai^y 
parts of Scotland and England — the scene is sometimes laid 
in some favourite glen of the Highlands, sometimes in the 
deep coal-mines of Northumberland and Cumberland, which 
run so far beneath the ocean. It is also to be found in Re- 
ginald Scott’s book on Witchcraft, which was written in the 
1 6th century. It would be in vain to ask what was the orig- 
inal of the tradition. The choice between the horn and 
sword may, perhaps, include as a moral, that it is fool-hardy to 
awaken danger before we have arms in our hands to resist it. 

Although admitting of much poetical ornament, it is clear 
that this legend would have formed but an unhappy founda- 
tion for a prose story, and must have degenerated into a 
mere fairy tale. Dr. John Leyden has beautifully introduced 
the tradition in his Scenes of Infancy : 

Mysterious Rhymer, doom’d by Fate’s decree, 

Still to revisit Eildon’s fated tree ; 

Where oft the swain, at dawn of Hallow-day, 

Hears thy tleet barb with wild impatience neigh j 
Say who is he, with summons long and high. 

Shall bid the charmed sleep of ages fl}'^. 

Roll the long sound through Eildon’s caverns vast, 

While each dark warrior kindles at the blast ; 

The horn, the falchion grasp with mighty hand. 

And peal proud Arthur’s march from Fairy-land ? 

Scenes of Infancy, Part I. 

In the same cabinet with the preceding fragment, the 
following occurred among other disjecta membra. It seems 
to be an attempt at a tale of a different description from the 
last, but was almost instantly abandoned. The introduction 
points out the time of the composition to have been about 
the end of the 18th century. 


THE LORD OF ENNERDALE. 

IN A FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM JOHN R , ESQ. 

OF THAT ILK, TO MTLLIAM G , F. R. S. E. 

“ Fill a bumper,” said the Knight ; “ the ladies may spare 
us a little longer. — Fill a bumper to the Archduke Charles.” 
The company did do honour to the toast of their landlord. 
“ The success of the Archduke,” said the muddy Vicar 
'* will tend to further our negotiation at Paris ; and if * 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


29 


“ Pardon the interruption, doctor,” quoth a thin emaciated 
figure, with somewhat of a foreign accent ; “ but why should 
you connect those events unless to hope that the bravery and 
victories of our allies may supersede the necessity of a de- 
grading treaty V’ 

“ We begin to feel. Monsieur L’Abbe,” answered the 
Vicar, with some asperity, “ that a Continental war entered 
into for the defence of an ally who was unwilling to defend 
himself, and for the restoration of a royal family, nobility, 
and priesthood, who tamely abandoned their own rights, is 
a burden too much even for tlie resources of this country.” 

“ And was the war then on the part of Great Britain,” 
rejoined the Abbe, “ a gratuitous exertion of generosity ? 
Was there no fear of the wide-wasting spirit of innovation 
which had gone abroad ? Did not the laity tremble for their 
property, the clergy for their religion, and every loyal heart 
for the Constitution ? Was it not thought necessary to de- 
stroy the building which was on fire, ere the conflagration 
spread around the vicinity 

“ Yet, if upon trial,” said the Doctor, “ the walls were 
found to resist our utmost efforts, I see no great prudence 
in persevering in our labour amid the smouldering ruins.” 

“ What, Doctor,” said the Baronet, “ must I call to your 
recollection your own sermon on the late general fast ? — did 
you not encourage us to hope that the Lord of Hosts would 
go forth with our armies, and that our enemies, who blas- 
phemed him, should be put to shame ?” 

“ It may please a kind father to chasten even his beloved 
children,” answered the Vicar. 

“ I think,” said a gentleman near the foot of the table, 
“ that the Covenanters made some apology of the same kind 
for the failure of their prophecies at the battle of Dunbar, 
when their mutinous preachers compelled the prudent Lesley 
tq go down against the Philistines in Gilgal.” 

The Vicar fixed a scrutinizing and not a very complacent 
eye upon this intruder. He was a young man of mean 
stature, and rather a reserved appearance. Early and severe 
study had quenched in his features the gaiety peculiar to 
his age, and impressed upon them a premature cast of 
thoughtfulness. His eye had, however, retained its fire, 
and his gesture its animation. Had he remained silent, he 
would have been long unnoticed ; but when he spoke, there 
was someth’ ng in his manner which arrested attention. 


30 


APPENDIX TO 


“ Who is this young man ?” said the Vicar in a low voice; 
fo his neighbour. 

“ A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry, 
was the answer. 

“ I thought so, from his accent and his manners,” said 
the Vicar. 

It may be here observed, that the Northern English retain 
rather more of the ancient hereditary aversion to their neigh- 
bours than their countrymen of the South. The interfer- 
ence of other disputants, each of whom urged his opinion 
with all the vehemence of wine and politics, rendered the 
summons to the drawing-room agreeable to the more sober 
part of the company. 

The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the 
Vicar and the young Scotchman alone remained, besides 
the Baronet, his lady, daughters, and myself The clergy- 
man had not, it would seem, forgot the observation which 
ranked him with the false prophets of Dunbar, for he ad- 
dressed Mr. Maxwell upon the hrst opportunity. 

“ Hem ! I think, sir, you mentioned something about the' 
civil wars of last century ? You must be deeply skilled in 
them indeed, if you can draw any parallel betwixt those and 
the present evil days — days which I am ready to maintain are 
the most gloomy that ever darkened the prospects of Britain.” 

“ God forbid, Doctor, that I should draw a comparison 
between the present times and those you mention. I am 
too sensible of the advantages we enjoy over our ancestors. 
Faction and ambition have introduced division among us ; 
but we are still free from the guilt of civil bloodshed, and 
from all the evils which flow from it. Our foes, sir, are not 
those of our own household ; and while we continue united 
and firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy, however art- 
ful, or however inveterate, we have, I hope, little to dread.” 

“ Have you found any thing curious, Mr. Maxwell, among 
the dusty papers ?” said Sir Henry, who seemed to dread a 
revival of political discussion. 

“ My investigation amongst them led to reflections which I 
have just now hinted,” said Maxwell ; “ and I think they are 
pretty strongly exemplified by a story which I have been en 
deavouring to arrange from some of your family manuscripts.” 

“ You are welcome to make what use of them you please,” 
said Sir Henry ; “ they have been undisturbed for many a 
day, and I have often wished for some person as well skilled 
as you in these old pot-hooks, to tell me their meaning ” 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


31 


“ Those I just mentioned,” answered Maxwell, “ relate to 
a piece of private history, savouring not a little of the mar- 
vellous, and intimately connected with your family , if it is 
agreeable, I can read to you the anecdotes in the modern 
shape into which I have been endeavouring to throw them, 
and you can then judge of the value of the originals.” 

There was something in this proposal, agreeable to all 
parties. Sir Henry had family pride, which prepared him 
to take an interest in whatever related to his ancestors. The 
ladies had dipped deeply into the fashionable reading of the 
present day. Lady Ratcliff and her fair daughters had 
climbed every pass, viewed every pine-shrouded ruin, heard 
every groan, and lifted every trap-door, in company with the 
noted heroine of Udolpho. They had been heard, however, 
to observe, that the famous incident of the Black Veil, sin- 
gularly resembled the ancient apologue of the Mountain in 
labour, so that they were unquestionably critics, as well as 
admirers. Besides all this, they had valorously mounted eii 
croupe behind the ghostly 'horseman of Prague, through all 
his seven translators, and followed the footsteps of Moor 
through the forest of Bohemia. Moreover, it was even hint- 
ed, (but this was a greater mystery than all the rest,) that a 
certain performance, called the MonJc, in three neat volumes, 
had been seen, by a prying eye, in the right-hand drawer of 
the Indian cabinet of Lady Ratcliff’s dressing-room. Thus 
predisposed for wonders and signs. Lady Ratcliff and her 
nymphs drew their chairs round a large blazing wood-fire, 
and arranged themselves to listen to the tale. To that fire 
I also approached, moved thereunto partly by the inclemency 
-of the season, and partly that my deafness, which you know, 
cousin, I acquired during my campaign under Prince Charles 
Edward, might be no obstacle to the gratification of my 
curiosity, which was awakened by what had any reference to 
the fate of such faithful followers of royalty, as you well know 
the house of Ratcliff have ever been. To this wood-fire 
he Vicar likewise drew near, and reclined himself conven- 
iently in his chair, se*emingly disposed to testify his disrespect 
for the narration and narrator by falling asleep as soon as he 
conveniently could. By the side of Maxwell (by the way, 
I cannot learn that he is in the least related to the Nitlisdale 
family) was placed a small table and a couple of lights, by 
die assistance of which he read as follows : — 


APPENDIX TO 


i'2 


Journal of Jan Von Eulcn. 

Oil the 6th November, 1645, I, Jan Von Eulen, merchant 
in Rotterdam, embarked with my only daughter on board of 
tlie good vessel Vryheid of Amsterdam, in order to pass into 
the unhappy and disturbed kingdom of England. 7th No- 
vember — a brisk gale — daughter sea-sick — myself unable to 
complete the calculation which I have begun, of the inher- 
itance left by Jane Lansache of Carlisle, my late dear wife’s 
sister, the collection of which is the object of my voyage. 
8th November, wind still stormy and adverse — a horrid dis- 
aster nearly happened — my dear child washed overboard as 
the vessel lurched to leeward. — Memorandum, to reward the 
young sailor who saved her, out of the first moneys which I 
can recover from the inheritance of her aunt Lansache. — 9th 
November, calm — P.M. Light breezes from N.N.W. I 
talked with the captain about the inheritance of my sister-in- 
law, Jane Lansache. — He says he knows the principal sub- 
ject, which will not exceed <£1000 in value. N.B. He is a 
cousin to a family of Petersons, which was the name of the 
husband of my sister-in-law ; so there is room to hope it 
may be worth more than he reports. — 10th November, 10 
A.M. May God pardon all our sins — An English frigate, 
bearing the Parliament flag, has appeared in the offing, and 
gives chase. — 11 A.M. She nears us every moment, and the 
captain of our vessel prepares to clear for action. — May God 
again have mercy upon us !” 

* * * * * * * * 

“ Here,” said Maxwell, “ the journal with which I have 
opened the narration ends somewhat abruptly.” 

“ I am glad of it,” said Lady Ratcliff. 

“ But, Sir. Maxwell,” said young Frank, Sir Henry’s 
grandchild, “ shall we not hear how the battle ended ?” 

I do not know, cousin, whether I have not formerly made 
you acquainted with the abilities of Frank Ratcliff. There 
is not a battle fought between the troops of the Prince and 
of the Government, during the years 1745-6, of which he 
is not able to give an account. It is true, I have taken 
particular pains to fix the events of this important peiiod 
upon his memory by frequent repetition. 

“ No, my dear,” said Maxwell, in answer to young Frank 
Ratcliff*. — “ No, my dear, I cannot tell you the exact par- 
ticulars of the engagement, but its consequences appear from 
the following letter, despatched by Garbonete Von Eulen, 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


33 


daughter of our journalist, to a relation in England, from 
whom she implored assistance. After some general account 
of the purpose of the voyage, and of the engagement, her 
narrative proceeds thus : — 

“ The noise of the cannon had hardly ceased, before the 
sounds of a language to me. but half known, and the confu- 
sion on board our vessel, informed me that the captors had 
boarded us, and taken possession of our vessel. I went on 
deck, where the first spectacle that met my eyes was a young 
man, mate of our vessel, who, though disfigured and covered 
with blood, was loaded with irons, and whom they were forc- 
ing over the side of the vessel into a boat. The two prin- 
cipal persons among our enemies appeared to be a man of 
a tall thin figure, with a high-crowned hat and long neck- 
band, and short-cropped head of hair, accompanied by a 
bluff open-looking elderly man ia a naval uniform. ‘ Yarely ! 
yarely ! pull aw'ay, my hearts,’ said the latter, and the boat 
bearing the unlucky young, man soon carried him on board 
the frigate. Perhaps you will blame me for mentioning this 
circumstance ; but consider, my dear cousin, this man saved 
my life, and his fate, even when my own and my father’s 
were in the balance, could not but affect me nearly. 

“ ‘ In the name of him who is jealous, even to slaying,’ 
said the first” 

##*#***** 
Cetera desunt. 


NO. II. 


CONCLUSION OF MR. STRUTT S ROMANCE OF 

QUEEN-HOO-HALL. 

BY THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A HUNTING PARTY. AN ADVENTURE. A DELIVERANCE 

The next morning the bugles were sounded by day-break 
in the court of Lord Boteler’s mansion, to call the inhab- 
itants Lorn tlieir slumbers, to assist in a splendid efiase. with 


34 


APPENDIX TO 


ivhich the Baron had resolved to entertain his neighbour 
Fitzallen, and his noble visiter St. Clere. Peter Lanaret, 
the falconer, was in attendance, with falcons for the knights, 
and teircelets for the ladies, if they should choose to vary 
their sport from hunting to hawking. Five stout yeomen 
keepers, with their attendants, called Ragged Robins, all 
meetly arrayed in Kendal green, with bugles and short hang- 
ers by their sides, and quarter-staffs in their hands, led the 
slow-hounds or brachets, by which the deer were to be put 
up. Ten brace of gallant greyhounds, each of which was 
fit to pluck down, singly, the tallest red deer, were led in 
leaslies by as many of Lord Boteler’s foresters. The pages, 
squires, and other attendants of feudal splendour, well at- 
tired in their begt hunting-gear, upon horseback or foot, ac- 
cording to their rank, with their boar-spears, longbows, and 
cross-bows, were in seemly waiting, 

A numerous train of yeoman, called in the language of 
the times, retainers, who yearly received a livery coat, and 
a small pension for their attendance on such solemn occa- 
sions, appeared in cassocks of blue, bearing upon their arms 
the cognizance of the house of Boteler, as a badge of their 
adherence. They were the tallest men of their hands that 
the neighbouring villages could supply, with every man his 
good buckler on his shoulder, and a bright burnished broad- 
sword dangling from his leathern belt. On this occasion, 
they acted as rangers for beating up the thickets, and rousing 
the game. These attendants filled up the court of the castle, 
spacious as it was. 

On the green without, you might have seen the motley 
assemblage of peasantry convened by report of the splendid 
hunting, including most of our old acquaintances from 
Tewin, as well as the jolly partakers of good cheer at Hob 
Filcher’s. Gregory the jester, it juay well be guessed, had 
no great mind to exhibit himself in public, after his recent 
disaster ; but Oswald the steward, a great formalist in what- 
ever concerned the public exhibition of his master’s house- 
hold state, had positively enjoined his attendance. “ What,” 
quoth he, “ shall the house of the brave Lord Boteler, on 
such a brave day as this, be without a fool ? Certes, the 
good Lord St. Clere, and his fair lady sister, might think our 
housekeeping as niggardly as that of their churlish kinsman 
at Gay Bowers, who sent his lather’s jester to the hospital, 
sold the poor sot’s bells for hawk-jesses, and made a night- 
cap of his lo ig-eared bonnet. And, sirr:ih, let me see tlieo 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


35 


fool handsomely — speak squibs and crackers, instead of that 
dry, barren, musty gibing, which thou hast used of late ; 
or, by the bones ! the porter shall have thee to his lodge, 
and cob thee with thine own wooden sword, till thy skin is 
as motley as thy doublet.” 

To this stern injunction, Gregory made no reply, any moie 
than to the courteous offer of old Albert Drawslot, the chief 
park-keeper, who proposed to blow vinegar in his nose, to 
sharpen his wit, as he had done that blessed morning to 
Bragger, the old hound, whose scent was failing. There 
was indeed little time for reply, for the bugles, after a lively 
flourish, were now silent, and Peretto, with his two attendant 
minstrels, stepping beneath the windows of the strangers’ 
apartments, joined in the following roundelay, the deep 
voices of the rangers and falconers making up a chorus that 
caused the very battlements to ring again. 

Waken, lords and ladies ffay, , 

On the mountain dawns the day j 
All the jolly chase is here, 

Witji hawk and horse, and hunting spear : 

Hounds are in their couples yelling, 

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling. 

Merrily, merrily, mingle they, 

“ Waken, lords and ladies gay.’' 

Waken, lords and ladies gay. 

The mist has left the mountain gray ; 

Springlets in the dawn are streaming. 

Diamonds on the brake are gleaming. 

And Ibresters have busy been. 

To track the buck in thicket green j 
Now we come to chant our lay, 

“ Waken, lords and ladies gay.” 

Waken, lords and ladies gay, 

I'o the green-wood haste aw'ay ; 

We can show' you w'hcre he lies. 

Fleet of foot, and tall of size ; 

We can show the marks he made, 

When ’gainst the oak his antlers frayed j 
You shall see him brought to bay, 

Waken, lords and ladies gay.” 

Louder, louder chant the lay. 

Waken, lords and ladies gay ; 

Tell them, youth, and mirth, and glee. 

Run a course as well as we. 

Time, stern huntsman ! who can balk, 

Stanch as hound, and fleet as haw'k ? 

Think of this, and rise w'ith day. 

Gently lords and ladies gay. 

By the time this lay was finished, Lord Boteler, with his 
daughter and kinsman, Fitzallen of Harden, and other noble 
guest? had nF"inted their palfreys, and the hunt set forward 


36 


APPENDIX TO 


in due order. The huntsmen, having carefully observed 
the traces of a large stag on the preceding evening, were 
able, without loss of time, to conduct the company, by the 
marks which they had made upon the trees, to the side ot 
the thicket, in which, by the report of Drawslot, he had 
harboured all night. The horsemen spreading themselves 
along the side of the cover, waited until the keeper entered, 
leading his ban-dog, a large blood-hound tied in a learn or 
band, from which he takes his name. 

But it befell thus. A hart of the second year, which was 
in the same cover with the proper object of their pursuit, 
chanced to be unharboured first, and broke cover very near 
where the Lady Emma and her brother were stationed. An 
inexperienced varlet, who was nearer to them, instantly un- 
loosed two tall greyhounds, who sprung after the fugitive 
with all the fleetness of the north wind. Gregory, restored 
a little to spirits by the enlivening scene around him, fol- 
lowed, encouraging the hounds with a loud tayout,* for 
which he had the hearty curses of the huntsman, as well as 
of the Baron, who entered into the .spirit of the chase with 
all the juvenile ardour of twenty. “ May the foul fiend, 
booted and spurr’d, ride down his bawling throat, with a 
scythe at his girdle,” quoth Albert Drawslot ; “ here have I 
been telling him, that all the marks were those of a buck of 
the first head, and he has hollowed the hounds upon a velvet- 
headed knobbler ! By Saint Hubert, if I break not his pate 
with my cross-bow, may I never cast off hound more ! But 
to it, my lords and masters ! the noble beast is here yet, 
and, thank the saints, we have enough of hounds.” 

The cover being now thoroughly beat by the attendants, 
the stag was compelled to abandon it, and trust to his speed 
for his safety. Three greyhounds were slipped upon him, 
whom he threw out, after running a couple of miles, by en- 
tering an extensive furzy brake, which extended along the 
side of a hill. The horsemen soon came up, and casting ofl 
a sufficient number of slow-hounds, sent them with the 
prickers into the cover, in order to drive the game from his 
strength. This object being accomplished, afforded another 
severe chase of several miles, in a direction almost circular, 
during which, the poor animal tried every wile to get rid of 
his persecutors. He crossed and traversed all such dusty 
paths as were likely to retain the least scent of his footsteps ; 


Tallliers-hors, in modoru phrase, 'I’ully-ho ! 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


37 


he laid himself close to the ground, drawing his feet under 
his belly, and clapping his nose close to the earth, lest he 
should be betrayed to the hounds* by his breath and hoofs. 
When all was in vain, and he found the hounds coming fast 
in upon him, his own strength failing, his mouth embossed 
with foam, and the tears dropping from his eyes, he turned 
in despair upon his pursuers, who then stood at gaze, mak- 
ing a hideous clamour, and awaiting their two-footed auxil- 
iaries. Of these, it chanced that the Lady Eleanor, taking 
more pleasure in the sport than Matilda, and being less a 
burden to her palfrey than the Lord Boteler, was the first who 
arrived at the spot, and taking a cross-bow from an attendant, 
discharged a bolt at the stag. When the infuriated animal 
felt himself wounded, he pushed franlicly towards her from 
whom he had 'received the shaft, and Lady Eleanor might 
have had occasion to repent of her enterprise, had not young 
Fitzallen, who had kept near her during the whole day, at 
that instant galloped briskly in, and ere the stag could change 
his object of assault, despatched him with his short hunting- 
sword. 

Albert Drawslot, who had just come up in terror for the 
young lady’s safety, broke out into loud encomiums upon 
Fitzallan’s strength and gallantry. “ By’r Lady,” said he, 
taking off his cap, and wiping his sun-burnt face with his 
sleeve, “ well struck, and in good time ! — But now, boys, 
doff your bonnets, and sound the mort.” 

The sportsman then sounded a treble mort, and set up a 
general whoop, which, mingled with the yelping of the dogs, 
made the welkin ring again. The huntsman then offered 
his knife to Lord Boteler, that he might take the say of the 
deer, but the Baron courteously insisted upon Fitzallen going 
through that ceremony. The Lady Matilda was now come 
up, with most of the attendants ; and the interest of the 
chase being ended, it excited some surprise, that neither St. 
Clere nor his sister made their appearance. The Lord 
Boteler commanded the horns again to sound the recheat, 
in hopes to call in the stragglers, and said to Fitzallen," 
“ Methinks St. Clere, so distinguished for service in war, 
should have been more forward in the chase.” 

“ I trow,” said Peter Lanaret, “ I know the reason of the 
noble lord’s absence ; for when that mooncalf, Gregory, 
hallooed the dogs upon the knobbler, and galloped like a 
green hilding, as he is, after them I saw the Lady Emma’s 


38 


APPENDIX TO 


palfrey follow apace after that varlet, who should be trashed 
for overrunning, and I think her noble brother has followed 
her, lest she should come to harm. — But here, by the rood, 
is Gregory to answer for himself.” 

At this moment Gregory entered the circle which had been 
formed round the deer, out of breath, and his face covered 
with blood. He kept for some time uttering inarticulate cries 
of “ Harrow !” and “ Wellaway !” and other exclamations 
of distress and terror, pointing all the while to a thicket at 
some distance from the spot where the deer had been killed. 

“ By my honour,” said the Baron, “ I would gladly know 
who has dared to array the poor knave thus ; and T trust he 
should dearly abye his outrecuidance, were he the best, save 
one, in England.” 

Gregory, who had now found more breathy cried, “ Help, 
an ye be men ! Save Lady Emma and her brother, whom 
they are murdering in Brockenhurst thicket.” 

This put all in motion. Lord Boteler hastily commanded 
a small party of his men to abide for the defence of the ladies, 
while he himself, Fitzallen, and the rest, made what speed 
they could towards the thicket, guided by Gregory, who for 
that purpose was mounted behind Fabian. Pushing through 
a narrow path, the first object they encountered was a man 
of small stature lyinjr on the ground, mastered and almost 
strangled by two dogs, which were instantly recognised to 
be those that had accompanied Gregory. A little farther 
was an open space, where lay three bodies of dead or wound- 
ed men ; beside these was Lady Emma, apparently lifeless, 
her brother and a -young fore’ster bending over and endeav- 
ouring to recover her. By employing the usual remedies, 
this was soon accomplished ; while Lord Boteler, astonished 
at such a scene, anxiously inquired at St. Clere the liiieaning of 
what he saw, and whether more danger was to be expected 1 

“ For the present, I trust not,” said the young warrior, 
who they now observed was slightly wounded ; “ but I pray 
/oil, of your nobleness, let the woods here be searched ; 
f^ur we were assaulted by four of these base assassins, and I 
see three only on the sward.” 

The attendants now brought forward the person whom 
they had rescued from the dogs, and Henry, with disgust, 
shame, and astonishment, recognised his kinsman, Gaston St. 
Clere. Tliis discovery he communicated in a whisper to 
Cord Boteler, who commanded the prisoner to be conveyed 


GENERAL PREFACE. 39 

to Queen hoo-Ifall, and closely guarded ; meanwhile he anx- 
iously inquired of young St. Clere about his wound. 

“ A scratch, a trifle !” cried Henry ; “lam in less haste 
to bind it than to introduce to you one, without whose aid 
that of the leech would have come too late. — Where is he 1 
where is my brave deliverer ?” 

“ Here, most noble Lord,” said Gregory, sliding from his 
palfrey, and stepping forward, “ ready to receive the guerdon 
which your bounty would heap on him.” 

“ Truly, friend Gregory,” answered the young warrior, 
“ thou shalt not be forgotten ; for thou didst run speedily, 
and roar manfully for aid, without which, I think verily, we 
had not received it. — But the brave forester, who came to 
my rescue when these three ruffians had nigh overpowered 
me, where is he ?” 

Every one looked around, but though all had seen him on 
entering the thicket, he was not now to be found. They 
could only conjecture that he had retired during the confu- 
sion occasioned by the detention of Gaston. 

“ Seek not for him,” said the Lady Emma, who had now 
in some degrbe recovered her composure ; “ he will not be 
found of mortal, unless at his own season.” 

“ The Baron, convinced from this answer that her terroi 
had, for the time, somewhat disturbed her reason, forbore 
to question her ; and Matilda and Eleanor, to whom a mes- 
sage had been despatched with the result of this strange 
adventure, arriving, they took the Lady Emma between 
^‘'■'f^m, and all in a body returned to the castle, 
t distance was, however, considerable, and, before 

hey had another alarm. The prickers, who rode 
foremosif^Jtn^ troop, halted, and announce<l to the Lord 
Boteler, tnW they perceived advancing towards them a body 
of armed i^h. The followers of the Baron were numerous, 
but tlie'y ^ere arrayed for the chase, not for battle ; and it 
was with 'great pleasure that he discerned, on the pennon of 
the advancing body of men-at-arms, instead of the cogni- 
zance of Gastoh, as he had some reason to expect, the friend- 
ly bearings of Fitzosborne of Diggswell, the same young 
r.ord who was present at the May-games witli Fitzalien of 
Marden. The knight himself advanced, sheathed in armour, 
and, without raising his visor, informed Lord Boteler, that 
having heard of a base attempt made upon a part of his train 

rutliaiily assassins, he had mounted and armed a small 


40 


APPENDIX TO 


party of his retainers, to escort them to Q,ueenhoo-Hall. 
Having received and accepted an invitation to attend them 
thither, they prosecuted their journey in confidence and se* 
curity, and arrived safe at home without any further accident 


CHAPTER V. 

INVESTIGATION OP THE ADVENTURE OF THE HUNTING A 

DISCOVERY — Gregory’s manhood — fate of gaston st. 

CLERE CONCLUSION. 

So soon as they arrived at the princely mansion of Boteler, 
the Lady Emma craved permission to retire to her chamber, 
that she might compose her spirits after the terror she had 
undergone. Henry St. Clere, in a few w^ords, proceeded to 
explain the adventure to the curious audience. “ I had no 
sooner seen my sister’s palfrey, in spite of her endeavours to 
the contrary, entering with spirit into the chase set on foot 
by the worshipful Gregory than I rode after to give her as- 
sistance. So long was the chase, that when the greyhounds 
pulled down the knobbler, we were out of hearing of your 
bugles ; and having rew'arded and coupled the dogs, I gave 
them to be led by the jester, and we wandered in quest ol 
our company, whom it would seem the sport had led in a 
different direction. At length, passing through the thicket 
where you found us, I was surprised by a cross-bow b oj^ 
whizzing past mine head. I drew my sword, and rus je^ 
into the t^iicket, but was instantly assailed by/j^p^/ujpBf; 
while other two made towards my sister and The 

poor knave fled, crying for help, pursued by myr^tllse kins- 
man, now your prisoner ; and the' designs of thp other on 
my poor Emma (murderous no doubt) were preVented by 
the sudden apparition of a brave woodspian, who, after a 
short encounter, stretched the miscreant at his feet, and came 
to my assistance. I was already slightly ’'wounded, and 
nearly overlaid with odds. The combat lasted some time, 
for the caitiffs were both well armed, strong, and desperate ; 
at length, however, we had each mastered our antagonist, 
when your retinue, my Lord Boteler, arrived to my relief 
So ends my story ; but, by my knighthood, I would give an 
earl’s ransom for an opportunity of thanking the gallani 
forester by w'hose aid I live to tell it.” 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


4 ] 


“ Fear not,” said Lord Boteler, “ he shall be found, if this 
or the four adjacent counties hold him. — And now Lord 
Fitzosborne will be pleased to doff the armour he has so 
kindly assumed for our sakes, and we will all bowne our- 
selves for the banquet.” 

When the hour of dinner approached, the Lady Matilda 
and her cousin visited the chamber of the fair Darcy. They 
found her in a composed but melancholy posture. She 
turned the discourse upon the misfortunes of her life, and 
hinted, that having recovered her brother, and seeing him 
look forward to the society of one who would amply repay 
to him the loss of hers, she had thoughts of dedicating her 
remaining life to heaven, by whose providential interference 
it had been so often preserved. 

/"^latilda coloured deeply at something in this speech, and 
lipr cousin inveighed loudly against Emma’s resolution. 
“ ^^1, my dear Lady Eleanor,” replied she, “ I have to-day 
witnessed what I cannot but judge a supernatural visitation, 
and to . ^h at end can it call me but to give myself to the 
altar ? ^That peasant who guided me to Baddow through 
the Park of Danbury, the same who appeared before me at 
different times, and in different forms, during that eventful 
journey, — that youth, whose features are imprinted on my 
memory, isVhe very individual forester who this day rescued 
us in the forest. I cannot be mistaken , and, connecting 
these marvellous appearances with the spectre which I saw 
while at Gay Bowers, I cannot resist the conviction that 
Heaven has permitted my guardian angel to assume mortal 
f^ape for my relief and protection.” 

The fair cousins, after exchanging looks which implied a 
fear that her mind was wandering, answered her in soothing 
terms, and finally prevailed upon her to accompany them to 
the banqueting hall. Here the first person they encounter- 
ed was the Baron Fitzosborne of Diggsvvell, now divested 
of his armour ; at the sight of whom the Lady Emma chang- 
ed colour, and exclaiming, “ It is the same !” sunk seiiseles.s 
into the arms of Matilda. 

“ She is bewildered by the terrors of the day,” said 
Eleanor; “ and we have done ill in obliging her to descend.” 

“ And I,” said Fitzosborne, “ have done mady in pre- 
senting befbre her one, whose presence must recall moments 
fhe most alarming in her life.” 


42 


APPENDIX TO 


While the ladies supported Emma from the hall, Lord 
Boteler and St. Clere requested an explanation from Fitzos- 
borne of the words he had used. 

“ Trust me, gentle Lords,” said the Baron of Diggswell, 
‘ ye shall have what ye demand, when I learn that Lady. 
Emma Darcy has not suffered from my imprudence.” 

At this moment Lady Matilda returning, said, that her 
fair friend, on her recovery, had calmly and deliberately 
insisted that she had seen Fitzosborne before, in the most 
dangerous crisis of her life. 

“ I dread,” said she, “ her disordered mind connects all 
that her eye beholds with the terrible passages that she has 
witnessed.” • 

“ Nay,” said Fitzosborne, “ if noble St. Clere can pardon 
the unauthorized interest which, with the purest and rq0gt 
honourable intentions, I have taken in his sister’s fate, it Is 
easy for me to explain this mysterious impression.” 

He proceeded to say, that, happening to be in the hostelry 
called the Griffin, near Baddow, while upon a journey in 
that country, he had met with the old nurse of me Lady 
Emma Darcy, who, being just expelled from Gay Bowers, 
was in the height of her grief and indignation, and made 
loud and public proclamation of Lady Emma’s wrongs. 
From the description she gave of the beauty o^ her foster- 
child, as well as from the spirit of chivalry, Fitzosborne 
became interested in her fate. This interest was deeply en- 
hanced when, by a bribe to old Gaunt the Reve, he procured 
a view of the Lady Emma, as she walked near the castle of 
Gay Bowers. The aged churl refused to give him access to 
the castle ; yet dropped some hints, as if he thought the lady 
in danger, and wished she were well out of it. His master, 
he said, had heard she had a brother in life, aifd since that 
deprived him of all chance of gaining her domains by pur- 
chase, he in short. Gaunt wished they were safely sep- 

arated. “ If any injury,” quoth he, “ should happen to the 
damsel here, it were ill for us all. I tried, by an innocent 
stratagem, to frighten her from the castle, by introducing a 
figure through a trap-door, and warning her, as if by a voice 
from the dead, to retreat from thence ; but the giglet is wil- 
ful, and is running upon her fate.” 

Finding Gaunt, although covetous and communicative, 
too faithful a servant to his wicked master to take any active 
steps against his commands, Fitzosborne applied himself to 
:>ld Ursely, whom he found more tractable. Through her 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


43 


he learned the dreadful plot Gaston had laid to rid himself 
of his kinswoman, and resolved to effect her deliverance. 
But aware of the delicacy of Emma’s situation, he charged 
Ursely to conceal from her the interest he took in her dis- 
tress, resolving to watch over her in disguise, until he saw 
her in a place of safety. Hence tlie appearance he made 
before her in various dresses during her journey, in the 
course of which he was never far distant ; and he had always 
four stout yeomen within hearing of his bugle, had assistance 
been necessary. When she was placed in safety at the lodge, 
it was Fitzosborne’s intention to have prevailed upon his 
sisters to visit, and take her under their protection ; but he 
found them absent from Diggswell, having gone to attend an 
aged relation, who lay dangerously ill in a distant county. 
They did not return until the day before the May-games ; 
and the other events followed too rapidly to permit Fitzos- 
borne to lay any plan for introducing them to Lady Emma 
Darcy. On the day of the chase, he resolved to preserve 
his romantic disguise, and attend the Lady Emma as a for- 
ester, partly to have the pleasure of being near her, and partly 
to judge whether, according to an idle report in the country, 
she favoured his friend and comrade Fitzallen of Marden. 
This last motive, it may easily be believed, he did not declare 
to the company. After the skirmish with the ruffians, he 
waited till the Baron and the hunters arrived, and then, still 
doubting the farther designs of Gaston, hastened to his castle, 
to arm the band which had escorted them to Queen hoo-Hall. 

Fitzosborne’s story being finished, he received the thanks 
of all the company, particularly of St. Clere, who felt deeply 
the respectful delicacy with which he had conducted himself 
towards his sister. The lady was carefully informed of her 
obligations to him ; and it is left to the well-judging reader, 
whether even the raillery of Lady Eleanor made her regret, 
that Heaven had only employed natural means for her secu- 
rity, and that the guardian angel was converted into a hand- 
gome, gallant, and enamoured knight. 

*The joy of the company in the hall extended itself to the 
buttery, where Gregory the jester narrated such feats of 
arms done by himself in the fray of the morning, as might 
have shamed Bevis and Guy of Warwick. He was, accord- 
ing to his narrative, singled out for destruction by the 
gigantic Baron himself, while he abandoned to meaner hands 
the destruction of St. Clere and Fitzosborne. 


44 


APPENDIX TO 


** But ccrtcs,” said he, “ the foul paynim met his match ; 
for, ever as he foined at me with his brand, I parried his 
blows with my bauble, and closing with him upon the tliird 
veny, threw him to the ground, and made him cry recreant 
to an unarmed man.” 

“ Tush, man,” said Drawslot, “ thou forgettest tliy best 
auxiliaries, the good greyhounds, Help and Holdfast ! I 
warrant thee, that when the humpbacked Baron caught thee 
by tlie cowl, which he hath almost torn off, thou hadst been 
in a fair plight had they not remembered an old friend, and 
come in to the rescue. Why, man, I found them fastened 
on him myself; and there was odd staving and stickling to 
make them ‘ ware haunch !’ Their mouths were full of the 
Hex, for I pulled a piece of the garment from their jaws. I 
warrant thee, that when they brought him to ground, thou 
fledst like a frighted pricket.” 

“ And as for Gregory’s gigantic paynim,” said Fabian, 
“ why, he lies yonder in the guard-room, the very size, 
shape, and colour of a spider in a yew-hedge.” 

“ It is false !” said Gregory ; “ Colbrand the Dane was 
a dwarf to him.” 

“ It is as true,” returned Fabian, “ as that the Tasker is 
to be married, on T uesday, to pretty Margery. Gregory, thy 
sheet hath brought them between a pair of blankets.” 

“ I care no more for such a gilltiirt,” said the Jester, “ than 
I do for thy leasings. Marry, thou hop-o’-my-thumb, happy 
woLildst thou be could thy head reach the captive Baron’s 
girdle.” 

“ By the mass,” said Peter Lanaret, I will have one 
peep at this burly gallant and, leaving the buttery, he went 
to the guard-room where Gaston St. Clere was confined. 
A man-at-arms, who kept sentinel on the strong studded 
door of the apartment, said, he believed he slept ; for that, 
after raging, stamping, and uttering the most horrid impre- 
cations, he liad been of late perfectly still. The Falconer 
gently drew back a sliding board, of a foot square, towards 
the top of the door, which covered a hole of the same size, 
strongly latticed, through which the warder, without opening 
the door, could look in upon his prisoner. From this aper- 
ture he beheld the wretched Gaston suspended by the neck 
by his own girdle, to an iron ring in the side of his prison. 
He had clambered to it by means of the table on which his 
food had been placed ; and, in the agonies of siiame, and 
disappointed malice, had adopted this mode of ridding him- 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


45 


sell of a wretched life. He was found yet warm, but totally 
lifeless. A proper account of the manner of his death was 
drawn up and certified. He was buried that evening, in the 
chapel of the castle, out of respect to his high birth and 
the chaplain of Fitzallen of Marden, who said the service 
upon the occasion, preached, the next Sunday, an excellent 
sermon upon the text. Radix inalorum est cupiditas, which 
we have here transcribed. 

* * * •* # #’# * * 

[Here the manuscript, from which we have painfully 
transcribed, and frequently, as it were, translated this tale, 
for the reader’s edification, is so indistinct and defaced, that, 
excepting certain howbeits, nathlesses, lo ye’s ! &c. we can 
pick out little that is intelligible, saving that avarice is de- 
fined “ a likourishness of heart after earthly things.” A 
little farther, there seems to have been a gay account ot 
Margery’s wedding with Ralph the Tasker ; the running at 
the quintain, and other rural games practised on the occa- 
sion. There are also fragments of a mock sermon preached 
by Gregory upon that occasion, as for example : 

“ My dear cursed caitiffs, there was once a king, and he 
wedded a young old queen, and she had a child ; and this 
child was sent to Solomon the Sage, praying he would give 
it the same blessing which he got from the witch of Endor 
when she bit him by the heel. Hereof speaks the worthy 
Dr. Radigundus Potator ; why should not mass be said for 
all the roasted shoe souls served up in the king’s dish on 
Saturday ; for true it is, that St. Peter asked father Adam, 
as they journeyed lo Camelot, an high, great, and doubtful 
question, ‘ Adam, Adam, why eatedst thou the apple with- 
out paring V 


* Tills tirade of g'ibberish is literally taken or selected from a mock dis- 
course pronounced by a professed jester, whicli occurs in an ancient manu- 
s* ript in the Advocates' Library, the same from which the late ingenious Mr. 
Weber published the curious comic romance of the Hunting' of the Hare. 
It w'as introduced in compliance with JMr. Strutt's plan of rendering his tale 
an illustration of ancient manners. A similar burlesque sermon is proiioiiiic- 
ed by the Fool in Sir David Lindesay's satire of the 'I’lirce Estates. The 
nonsense and vulgar burlesque of that composition illustrate the ground ol 
Sir Andrew Aguecheek's eulogy on the exploits of the jester in 'J’welfth 
Night, who, reserving his sharper jests for Sir 'J’oby, had doubtless enough 
of the jargon of his calling to captivate the imbecility of hi.s brother knight, 
who is made to exclaim — ‘‘ In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last 
night, when thou spokest of I’igrogremitus, and of the vapours passing the 
equinoctials of Quenbus ; 'twas very good, i' faith !" It is enterlaining to 
find commentators seeking to discover some meaning in the professional 
jargon of such a passage as this. 


46 


APPENDIX TO 


With much goodly gibberish to the same effect ; which 
display of Gregory’s ready wit not only threw the whole 
company into convulsions of laughter, but made such an 
impression on Rose, the Potter’s daughter, that it was thought 
it would be the Jester’s own fault if Jack was long without 
his Jill. Much pithy matter, concerning the bringing the 
bride to bed — the loosing the bridegroom’s points — the 
scramble which ensued for them — and the casting of the 
stocking, is also omitted from its obscurity. 

The following song, which has been since borrowed by 
the worshipful author of the famous “ History of Fryar Ba^ 
con,” has been with difficulty deciphered. It seems to have 
been sung on occasion of carrying home the bride. 

BRIDAL SONG. 

To the tune pf—'‘ 1 have been a Fiddler, 

And did you not hear of a mirth befell 
The morrow after a wedding day, 

And carrying a bride at home to dwell ? 

And aw'ay to Tewin, away, away ! 

The quintain was set, and the garlands were made, 

'Tis pity old customs should ever decay ; 

And wo be to him that w'as horsed on a jade, 

For he carried no credit away, away. 

We met a consort of fiddle-de-dees ; 

We set them a cockhorse, and made them play 

The winning of Bullen, and Upsey-fires, 

And away to Tewin, away, away i 

There was ne’er a lad in all the parish 
That would go to the plough that day j 

But on his fore-horse his wench he carries, 

And away to Tewin, away, away ! 

The butler was quick, and the ale he did tap. 

The maidens aid make the chamber full gay j 

The servants did give me a fuddling cup, 

And I did carry ’t away, away. 

The smith of the town his liquor so took. 

That he was persuaded that the ground look’d blew 5 

And I dare boldly be sworn on a book. 

Such smiths as he there ’s but a few. 

A posset was made, and the women did sip, 

And simpering said, they could eat no more j 

Full many a maiden was laid on the lip, — 

I’ll say no more, but give o’er, (give o’er.) 

But what our fair readers will chiefly regret, is the loss of 
three declarations of love : the first by St. Clere to Matilda ; 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


4 ? 


wliicli, with the lady’s answer, occupies fifteen closely writ- 
ten pages of manuscript. That of Fitzosborne to Emma is 
not much shorter ; but the amours of Fitzallen and Eleanor, 
being of a less romantic cast, are closed in three pages only. 
The three noble couples were married in Queenhoo-Hall 
upon the same day, being the twentieth Sunday after Easter. 
There is a prolix account of the marriage-feast, of which 
v'^e can pick out the names of a few dishes, such aspeterel, 
crane, sturgeon, swan, &c. &c. with a profusion of wild-fowl 
and venison. We also see, that a suitable song was pro- 
duced by Peretto on the occasion ; and that the bishop, wiiq 
blessed the bridal beds which received the happy couples, 
was no niggard of his holy water, bestowing half a gallon 
upon each of the couches. We regret we cannot give these 
curiosities to the reader in detail, but we hope to expose the 
manuscript to abler antiquaries, so soon as it shall be framed 
and glazed by the ingenious artist who rendered that service 
to Mr. Ireland’s Shakspeare MSS. Ami so, (being unable 
to lay aside the style to which our pen is habituated,) gentle 
reader, we bid thee heartily farewell.] 

NO. III. 

ANECDOTE OF SCHOOL DAYS, 

UPON WHICH MR. THOMAS SCOTT PROPOSED TO FOUND A 
TALE OF FICTION. 

It is well known in the South that there is little or no 
boxing at the Scottish Schools. About forty or fifty years 
ago, however, a far more dangerous mode of fighting, in 
parties or factions, was permitted in the streets of Edinburgh, 
to the great disgrace of the police, and danger of the parties 
concerned. These parties were generally formed from the 
quarters of the town in which the combatants resided, those of 
a particular square or district fighting against those of an ad- 
joining one. Hence it happened that the children of the high- 
er classes were often pitted against those of the lower, each 
taking their side according to the residence of their friends 
So far as I recollect, however, it was unmingled either with 
feelings of democracy, or aristocracy, or indeed with malice 
Of ill-will of any kind towards the opposite party. In fact, 


48 


APPENDIX TO 


it was only a rough mode of play. Such contests were 
however, maintained with great vigour with stones, and 
sticks, and fisticuffs, when one party dared to charge, and the 
other stood their ground. Of course mischief sometimes 
happened, boys are said to have been killed at these Bickers ^ 
as they were called, and serious accidents certainly took 
place, as many contemporaries can bear witness. 

The author’s father, residing in George Square, in the 
southern side of Edinburgh, the boys belonging to that fam- 
ily, with others in the square, were arranged into a sort of 
company, to which a lady of distinction presented a hand- 
some set of colours. Now this company or regiment, as a 
matter of course, was engaged in weekly warfare with tiie 
boys inhabiting the Crosscauseway, Bristo-street, the Potter- 
row, — in short, the neighbouring suburbs. These last were 
chiefly of the lower rank, but hardy loons, who threw stones 
to a hair’s-breadth, and were very rugged antagonists at close 
quarters. The skirmish sometimes lasted for a whole even- 
ing, until one party or the other was victorious, when, if ours 
were successful, we drove the enemy to their quarters, and 
were usually chased back by the reinforcement of bigger 
lads who came to their assistance. If, on the contrary, we 
were pursued, as was often the case, into the precincts of 
our square, we were in our turn supported by our elder 
brothers, domestic servants, and similar auxiliaries. 

It followed, from our frequent opposition to each other, 
that though not knowing the names of our enemies, we were 
yet well acquainted with their appearance, and had nick- 
names for the most remarkable of them. One very active 
and spirited boy might be considered as the principal leader 
in the cohort of the suburbs. He was, I suppose, thirteen 
or fourteen years old, finely made, tall, blue-eyed, with long 
fair hair, the very picture of a youthful Goth. This lad was 
always first in the charge, and last in the retreat — the Achilles, 
at once, and Ajax, of the Crosscauseway. He was too for- 
midable to us not to have a cognomen, and, like that of a 
knigiit of old, it was taken from the most remarkable part 
of his dress, being a pair of old green livery breeches, which 
was the principal part of his clothing ; for, like Pentapolin, 
according to Don Quixote’s account, Green-Breeks, as we 
called him, always entered the battle with bare arms, legs, 
and feet. 

It fell, that once upon a time, when the combat was at the 
thickest, this plebeian champion headed a sudden charge, so 


GENERAL PREFACE. 


49 


rapid and furious, that all fled before him. He was severa. 
paces before his comrades, and had actually laid his hands 
on the patrician standard, when one of our party, whom 
some misjudging friend had intrusted with a couteau de chasse, 
or hanger, inspired with a zeal for the honour of the corps, 
worthy of Major Sturgeon himself, struck poor Green-Breeks 
over the head, with strength sufficient to cut him down 
When this was seen, the casualty was so far beyond what 
had ever taken place before, that both parties fled different 
ways, leaving poor Green-Breeks with his bright hair plen- 
tifully dabbled in blood, to the care of the watchman, who 
(honest man) took care not to know who had done the mis- 
chief. The bloody hanger was flung into one of the Meadow 
ditches, and solemn secrecy was sworn on all hands ; but 
the remorse and terror of the actor were beyond all bounds, 
and his apprehensions of the most dreadful character. The 
wounded hero was for a few days in the Infirmary, the case 
being only a trifling one. But though inquiry was strongly 
pressed on him, no argument could make him indicate the 
person from whom he had received the wound, though he 
must have been perfectly well known to him. When he 
recovered, and was dismissed, the author and his brothers 
opened a communication with him, through the medium of 
a popular gingerbread baker, of whom both parties were 
customers, in order to tender a subsidy in name of smart- 
money. The sum would excite ridicule were I to name it; 
but sure I am, that the pockets of tlie noted Green-Breeks 
never held as much money of his own. He declined the 
remittance, saying that he would not sell his blood ; but at 
the same time reprobated the idea of being an informer, which 
he said was clam, i. e. base or mean. With much urgency 
he accepted a pound of snuff* for the use of some old woman, 
— aunt, grandmother, or the like, — with whom he lived. We 
did not become friends, for the bickers were more agreeable 
to both parties than any more pacific amusement ; but we 
conducted them ever after under mutual assurances of the 
highest consideration for each other. 

Such was the hero whom Mr. Thomas Scott proposed to 
carry to Canada, and involve in adventures with the natives 
and colonists of that country. Perhaps the youthful gene- 
rosity of the lad will not seem so great in the eyes of others, 
as to those whom it was the means of screening from severe 
rebuke and punishment. But it seemed to those concerned. 
3 


50 


APPENDIX. 


to argue a nobleness of sentiment far beyond the pitch of 
most minds ; and however obscurely the lad, who showed 
such a frame of noble spirit, may have lived or died, I can- 
not help being of opinion, that if fortune had placed him in 
circumstances calling for gallantry or generosity, the man 
would have fulfilled the promises of the boy. Long after- 
wards, when the story was told to my father, he censured us 
severely for not telling the truth at the time, that he might 
have attempted to be of use to the young man in entering 
on life. But our alarms for the consequences of the drawn 
sword, and the wound inflicted with such a weapon, were 
far too predominant at the time for such a pitch of generosity. 

Perhaps I ought not to have inserted this schoolboy tale ; 
but, besides the strong impression made by the incident at 
the time, the whole accompaniments of the story are mat- 
ters to me of solemn and sad recollection. Of all the little 
band who weie concerned in those juvenile sports or brawls, 
I can scarce recollect a single survivor. Some left the ranks 
of mimic war to die in the active service of their country. 
Many sought distant lands to return no more. Others, dis- 
persed in different paths of life, “ my dim eyes now seek 
for in vain.’’ Of five brothers, all healthy and promising, 
in a degree far beyond one whose infancy was visited by a 
personal infirmity, and whose health after this period seemed 
long very precarious, I am, nevertheless, the only survivor. 
The best loved, and the best deserving to be loved, who had 
destined this incident to be the foundation of literary com- 
position, died before his day,” in a distant and foreign 
land ; and trifles assume an im.portance not their own, when 
Doiinected with those who have been loved and lost. 


IIVTRODUCTION. 


The plan of this edition leads me to insert in this place 
some account of the incidents on which the Novel of Wa- 
VERLEY is founded. They have been already given to the 
public, by my late lamented friend, William Erskine, Esq., 
(afterwards Lord Kinneder,) when reviewing the Tales of My 
Landlord for the Quarterly Review, in 1817. The partic- 
ulars were derived by the critic from the author’s informa- 
tion. Afterwards they were published in the preface to the 
Chronicles of the Canongate. They are now inserted in 
their proper place. 

The mutual protection afforded by Waverley and Talbot 
to each other, upon which the whole plot depends, is found- 
ed upon one of those anecdotes which soften the features 
even of civil war; and as it is equally honourable to the 
memory of both parties, we have no hesitation to give their 
names at length. When the Highlanders, on the morning 
of the battle of Preston, 1745, made their memorable attack 
on Sir John Cope’s army, a battery of four field-pieceb was 
stormed and carried by the Camerons and the Stewarts of 
Appine. The late Alexander Stewart of Invernahyle was 
one of the foremost in the charge, and observing an officer 
of the King’s forces, who, scorning to join the flight of all 
around, remained with his sword in his hand, as if determined 
to the very last to defend the post assigned to him, the High- 
land gentleman commanded him to surrender, and received 
for a reply a thrust, which he caught in his target. The 
officer was now defenceless, and the battle axe of a gigantic 
Highlander (the miller of Invernahyle’s mill) was uplifted to 
dash his brains out, when Mr. Stewart with difficulty pre- 
vailed on him to yield. He took charge of his enemy’s pro- 
perty, protected his person, and finally obtained him liberty 
on his parole. The officer proved to be^olonel Whitefoord, 
an Ayrshire gentleman of high character and influence, and 
warmly attached to the house of Hanover ; yet such was the 
confidence existing between these two honourable men-, 
though of diflerent political principles, that while the civil 


INTRODUCTION 


war was raging, and straggling officers from the Highland 
army were executed without mercy, Invernahyle hesitated 
not to pay his late captive a visit, as he returned to the High- 
lands to raise fresh recruits, on which occasion he spent a 
day or two in Ayrshire among Colonel Whitefoord’s Whig 
friends, as pleasantly and as good-humouredly as if all had 
been at peace around him. 

After the battle of Culloden had ruined the hopes of 
Charles Edward, and dispersed his proscribed adherents, it 
was Colonel Whitefoord’s turn to strain every nerve to obtain 
Mr. Stewart’s pardon. He went to the Lord Justice Clerk, 
to the Lord Advocate, and to all the officers of state, and 
each application was answered by the production of a list, 
in which Invernahyle (as the good old gentleman was wont 
to express it) appeared “ marked with the sign of the beast!” 
as a subject unfit for favour or pardon. 

At length Colonel Whitefoord applied to the Duke of 
Cumberland in person. From him, also, he received a 
positive refusal. He then limited his request, for the pres- 
ent, to a protection for Stewart’s house, v/ife, children, and 
property. This was also refused by the Duke; on which 
Colonel Whitefoord, taking his commission from his bosom, 
hiid it on the table before his Royal Highness with much 
emotion, and asked permission to retire from the service of 
a sovereign who did not know how to spare a vanquished 
enemy. The Duke was struck, and even affected. He 
bade the Colonel take up his commission, and granted the 
protection he required. It was issued just in time to save 
the house, corn, and cattle at Invernahyle from the troops, 
who were engaged in laying waste what it was the fashion 
to call “ the country of the enemy.” A small encampment 
of soldiers was formed on Invernahyle’s property, which 
they spared while plundering the country around, and 
searching in every direction for the leaders of the insurrec- 
tion, and for Stewart in particular. He was much nearer 
them than they suspected; for, hidden in a cave, (like the 
Baron of Bradwardine,) he lay for many days so near the 
English sentinels, that he could hear their muster-roll called. 
His food was brought to him by one of his daugliters, a 
child of eight years old, whom Mrs. Stewart was under the 
necessity of intrusting with this commission; for her oivn 
motions, and those of all her elder inmates, were closely 
watched. With ingenuity beyond her years, the child used 


TO WAVERLEY. 


53 


to Stray about among the soldiers, who were rather kind to 
her, and thus seize the moment when she was unobserved, 
and steal into the thicket, when she deposited whatever small 
store of provisions she had in charge, at some marked spot, 
where her father might find it. Invernahyle supported life 
for several weeks by means of these precarious supplies ; and 
as he had been wounded in the battle of Culloden, the hard- 
ships which he endured were aggravated by great bodily 
pain. After the soldiers had removed their quarters, he had 
another remarkable escape. 

As he now ventured to his own house at night, and left 
it in the morning, he was espied during the dawn by a party 
of the enemy, who fired at and pursued him. The fugitive 
being fortunate enough to escape their search, they returned 
to the house, and charged the family with harbouring one 
of the proscribed traitors. An old woman had presence of 
mind enough to maintain that the man they had seen was 
the shepherd. “ Why did he not stop when we called to 
him said the soldier. — “ He is as deaf, poor man, as a 
peat-stack,” answered the ready-witted domestic. — “ Let 
him be sent for directly.” The real shepherd accordingly 
w’as brought from the hill, and as there w'as time to tutor 
him by the way, he was as deaf when he made his appear- 
ance, as was necessary to sustain his character. Inverna- 
hyle was afterwards pardoned under the act of Indemnity. 

The author knew him well, and has often Imard these cir- 
cumstances from his own mouth. He was a noble specimen 
of the old Highlander, far descended, gallant, courteous, 
and brave, even to chivalry. He had been out, I believe, in 
1715 and 1745, was an active partaker in all the stirring 
scenes which passed in the Highlands, betwixt these me- 
morable eras ; and I have heard, was remarkable, among 
other exploits, for having fought a duel with the broadsword 
with the celebrated Rob Roy MacGregor, at the Clachan of 
Balquidder. 

Invernahyle chanced to be in Edinburgh when Paul Jones 
came into the Frith of Forth, and though then an old man, 
I saw him in arms, and heard him exult, (to use his own 
words,) in the prospect of “ drawing his claymore once 
more bef''re he died.” In fact, on that memorable occasion, 
when the capital of Scotland was menaced by three trifling 
sloops or brigs, scarce fit to have sacked a fishing village, he 
was the only man who seemed to propose a plan ol resist- 


54 


INTRODUCTION. 


anr<". He offered to the magistrates, if broadswords and 
dirks could' be obtained, to find as many Highlanders among 
tlie lower classes, as would cut off any boat’s crew who 
might be sent into a town, full of narrow and winding pas- 
sages, in which they were like to disperse in quest of plun- 
der. I know not if his plan was attended to; I rather think 
it seemed too hazardous to the constituted authorities, who 
might not, even at that time, desire to see arms in Highland 
hands. A steady and powerful west wind settled the mat- 
ter, by sweeping Paul Jones and his vessels out of the Frith. 

If there is something degrading in this recollection, it is 
not unpleasant to compare it with those of the last war, when 
Edinburgh, besides regular forces and militia, furnished a 
volunteer brigade of cavalry, infantry and artillery, to the 
amount of six thousand men and upwards, which was in 
readiness to meet and repel a force of a far more formidable 
description, than was commanded by the adventurous Amer- 
ican. Time and circumstances change the character of 
nations, and the fate of cities ; and it is some pride to a 
Scotchman to reflect, that the independent and manly char- 
acter of a country, willing to intrust its own protection to 
the arms of its children, after having been obscured for half 
a century, has, during the course of his own lifetime, recov- 
ered its lustre. 

Other illustrations of Waverley will be found in the Notes 
at the foot of the pages to which they belong. Those which 
appeared too long to be so placed, are given at the end of 
the chapters to which they severally relate. 


[In this edition a more convenient arrangement of the 
Notes has been adopted by transferring them from the ends 
of chapters to the end of each volume, with numeral refer 
ences both to page and subject.] 


Bos. Ster. Ed. 


PREFACE 


TO THE THIRD EDITIOiN. 


To this slight attempt at a sketch of ancient Scottish 
manners, the public have been more favourable than the 
Author durst have hoped or expected. He has heard, 
with a mixture of satisfaction and humility, his work 
ascribed to more than one respectable name. Con- 
siderations, which seem weighty in his particular situ- 
ation, prevent his releasing those gentlemen from sus- 
picion, by placing his own name in the title-page ; so 
that, for the present at least, it must remain uncertain, 
whether Waverley be the work of a poet or a critic, 
a lawyer or a clergyman, or whether the writer, to use 
Mrs. Malaprop’s phrase, be “ like Cerberus— three 
gentlemen at once.” The Author, as he is uncon- 
scious of any thing in the work itself (except perhaps 
its frivolity) which prevents its finding an acknowledg- 
ed father, leaves it to the candour of the public to 
choose among the many circumstances peculiar to 
different situations in life, such as may induce him to 
suppress his name on the present occasion. He may 
be a writer new to publication, and unwilling to avow 
a character to which he is unaccustomed ; or he may 
be a hackneyed author, who is ashamed of too fre- 
quent appearance, and employs this mystery, as the 
heroine of the old comedy used her mask, to attract 
the attention of those to whom her face had become 
too familiar. He may be a man of a grave profession, 
to whom the reputation of being a novel-writer might 
be prejudicial ; or he may be a man of fashion, to 
whom writing of any kind might appear pedantic. He 


2 


rilEFACE. 


may be too young to assume the character of an au- 
thor, or so old as to make it advisable to lay it aside. 

The Author of Waverley has heard it objected to 
this novel, that, in the character of Callum Beg, and 
in the account given by the Baron of Bradwardine of 
the petty trespasses of the Highlanders upon trilling 
articles of property, he has borne hard, and unjustly 
so, upon their national character. Nothing could be 
farther from his wish or intention. The character of 
Callum Beg i^ that of a spirit naturally turned to dar- 
ing evil, and determined, by the circumstances of his 
situation, to a particular species of mischief. Those 
who have perused the curious Letters from the High- 
lands, published about 1726, will find instances of 
such atrocious characters which fell under the writer’s 
own observation, though it would be most unjust to 
consider such villains as representatives of the High- 
landers of that period, any more than the murderers 
of Man- and Williamson can be supposed to represent 
the English of the present day. As for the plunder 
supposed to have been picked up by some of the in- 
surgents in 1745, it must be remembered, that al- 
though the way of that unfortunate little army was 
neither marked by devastation nor bloodshed, but, on 
the contrary, was orderly and quiet in a most wonder- 
ful degree, yet no army marches through a country in 
a hostile manner without committing some depreda- 
tions; and several, to the extent, and of the nature, joc- 
ularly imputed to them by the Baron, were really laid to 
the charge of the Highland insurgents ; for which many 
traditions, and particularly one respecting the Knight 
of the Mirror, may be quoted as good evidence.* 


* A homely metrical narrative of the events of the period, which con- 
tains some sinking particulars, and is still a great favourite with the lower 
classes, gives a very correct statement of the behaviour of the mountain- 
eers respecting this same military license ; and as the verses are little 
<nown, and contain some good sense, we venture to insert them. 


FUEFACE. 


3 


'he Author’s Address to all in generaV.. 

iNow, gentle readers, I have let you ken 
My very thoughts, from heart and pen, 

Tis needless for to conten’ 

Or yet controule. 

For there’s not a word o’t I can men’ — 

So ye must thole. 

For on both sides, some were not good j 
I saw them murd’ring in cold blood, 

Not the gentlemen, but wild and rude, 

The baser sort. 

Who to the wounded had no mood 

But murd’ring sport ! 

12v’n both at Preston and Falkirk, 

That fatal night ere it grew mirk, 

Piercing the wounded with their durk. 

Caused many cry ! 

Such pity’s shown from Savage and Turk 
As peace to die. 

A woe be to such hot zeal, 

'Po smite the wounded on the fiell ! 

It’s just they got such groats in kail. 

Who do the same. 

It only teaches crueltys real 
To them again. 

I’ve seen the men call’d Highland Rogues, 
With Lowland men make sJiangs a brogs. 

Sup kail and brose, and fling the cogs 
Out at the door. 

Take cocks, hens, sheep, and hogs. 

And pay nought for. 

I saw a Highlander, ’twas right drole. 

With a string of puddings hung on a pole, 
Whip’d o’er his shoulder, skipped like a foie, 
Caus’d Maggy bann. 

Lap o’er the midden and middeivhole. 

And afT he ran. 

When check’d for this, they’d often tell ye— 
Indeed her nainselVs a tume belly ; 

You’ll no gie’t wanting bought, nor sell me j 
Ifersfill will hae’t j 

Go tell KingShorge, and Shordy’s Willie, 

I’ll hac a meat. 


4 


PREFACE 


1 saw the soldiers at Lintou-brig-, 

Because the man was not a Wliig, 

Of meat and drink leave not a skig, 

Within his door ; 

They burnt his very hat and wig, 

And thump’d him sore. 

And through the Highlands they were so rude, 
As leave them neither clothes nor food, 

Then burnt their houses to conclude j 
’’I’was tit for tat. 

How can her nainsell e’er be good, 

To think on that ? 

And after all, O, shame and grief ! 

To use some worse than murd’ring thief. 

Their very gentleman and chief, 

Unhumanly ! 

Like popish tortures, I believe, 

Such cruelty. 


Ev’n what was act on open stage 
At Carlisle, in the hottest rage. 

When mercy was clapt in a cage, 
And pity dead. 

Such cruelty approv’d by every age, 
1 shook my head. 


So many to curse, so few to pray. 
And some aloud liuzza did cry ; 

They cursed tlie rebel Scots that day, 
As they’d been nowt 
Brought up for slaugliier, as that way 
Too many rowt. 


Therefore, alas ! dear countrymen, 

O never do the like again j 
To thirst for vengeance, never ben’ 

Your gun nor pa’. 

But with the English e’en borrow and len’, 

. Let anger fa’. 

Their boasts and bullying, not worth a louse, 
As our King’s the best about the house. 

’I’is aye good to be sober and douce, 

'J’o live in peace j 

For many, I see, for being o’er crouse, 

Gets broken face. ^ 


WAVERLEY; 

OR, 


’TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE. 


CHAPTER I. 


Introductory, 

The title of this work has not been chosen without 
the grave and solid deliberationjwhich matters of impor- 
tance demand from the prudent. Even its first, or gen- 
eral denomination, was the result of no common research 
or selection, although, according to the example of my 
predecessors, I had only to seize upon the most sound- 
ing and euphonic surname that English history or topog- 
raphy affords, and elect it at once as the title of my work 
and the name of my hero. But, alas ! what could my 
readers have expected from the chivalrous epithets of 
Howard, Mordaunt, Mortimer, or Stanley, or from the 
softer and more sentimental sounds of Belmour, Belvilie, 
Belfield, and Belgrave, but pages of inanity, similar to 
those which have been so christened for half a centuiy 
past F I must modestly admit I am too diffident of my 
own i lerit to place it in unnecessary opposition to pre- 
conceived associations : I have therefore, like a maiden 

VOL. I. 


6 


WAVERLEY. 


knight with his white shield, assumed for my hero, Wa- 
VERLEY, an uncontaminated name, bearing with its sound 
little of good or evil, excepting what the reader shall 
hereafter be pleased to affix to it. But my second or sup^ 
plemental title was a matter of much more difficult elec- 
tion, since that, short as it is, may he held as pledging 
the author to some special mode of laying his scene, 
drawing his characters, and managing his adventures. 
Had I, for example, announced in my frontispiece, “ Wa- 
verley, a Tale of other Days,” must not every novel- 
reader have anticipated a castle scarce less than that of 
Udolpho, of which the eastern wing had long been unin- 
habited, and the keys either lost or consigned to the care 
of some aged butler or housekeeper, whose trembling 
steps, about the middle of the second volume, were 
doomed to guide the hero or heroine, to the ruinous pre- 
cincts f Would not the owl have shrieked and the crick- 
et cried in my very title-jpage ? and could it have been 
possible for me, with a moderate attention to deco- 
rum, to introduce any scene more lively than might be 
produced by the jocularity of a clownish but faithful 
valet, or the garrulous narrative of the heroine’s fille-de- 
chamber, when rehearsing the stories of blood and hor- 
ror which she had heard in the servants’ hall ? Again, 
had my title borne, ‘‘ Waverley, a Romance from the 
German,” what head so obtuse as not to image forth a 
profligate abbot, an oppressive duke, a secret and mys- 
terious association of Rosicrusians and illuminati, with 
all their properties of black cowls, caverns, daggers, 
electrical machines, trap-doors, and dark-lanterns ? Or 
if 1 had rather chosen to call my work a “ Sentimental 
Tale,” would it not have been a. sufficient presage of a 
heroine with a profusion of auburn hair, and a harp, the 
soft solace of her solitary hours, which she fortunately 
finds always the means of transporting from castle to 
cottage, although she herself be sometimes obliged to 
jump out of a two-pair-of-stairs window, and is more 
than once bewildered on her journey, alone and on foot, 


WAVERLEY. 


n 


Without any guide but a blowsy peasant girl, whose jargon 
she hardly can understand ? Or again, if in’y Waverley 
had been entitled “ A Tale of the Times,” wouldstthou 
not, gentle reader, have demanded from me a dashing 
sketch of the fashionable world, a few anecdotes of pri- 
vate scandal thinly veiled, and if lusciously painted, so 
much the better ? a heroine from Grosvenor Square, and 
a hero from the Barouche Club, or the Four-in-Hand, 
with a set of subordinate characters from the elegantes 
of Queen Anne Street East, or the dashing heroes of 
the Bow-Street Office ? I could proceed in proving the 
importance of a title-page, and displaying at the same 
time my own intimate knowledge of the particular ingre- 
dients necessary to the composition of romances and 
novels of various descriptions : But it is enough, and 1 
scorn to tyrannize longer over the impatience of my 
reader, who is doubtless already anxious to know the 
choice made by an author so profoundly versed in the 
different branches of his art. 

By fixing, then, the date of my story Sixty Years before 
this present 1st November, 1805, I would have my rea- 
ders understand that they will meet in the following pages 
neither a romance of chivalry, nor a tale of modern 
manners ; that my hero will neither have iron on his 
shoulders, as of yore, nor on the heels of his boots, as 
s the present fashion of Bond Street ; and that my 
damsels will neither be clothed “ in purple and in pall,” 
like the Lady Alice of an old ballad, nor reduced to the 
primitive nakedness of a modern fashionable at a rout. 
From this my choice of an aBra the understanding critic 
may farther presage, that the object of my tale is more 
a description of men than manners. A tale of manners, 
to be interesting, must either refer to antiquity so great 
as to have become venerable, or it must bear a vivid 
reflection of those scenes which are passing daily before 
our eyes, and are interesting from their novelty. Thus 
the coat-of-mail of our ancestors, and the tripple-furred 
pelisse of our modern beaux, may, though for very dif 


8 


WAVERLEY. 


ferent reasons, be equally fit for the array of a fictitious 
character ; but who, meaning the costume of his hero 
to be impressive, would willingly attire him in the court 
dress of George the Second’s reign, with its no collar, 
large sleeves, and low pocket-holes ? The same may 
be urged, with equal truth, of the Gothic hall, which, 
with its darkened and tinted windows, its elevated and 
gloomy roof, and massive oaken table garnished wdlh 
boar’s-head and rosemary, pheasants and peacocks, cranes 
and cygnets, has an excellent effect in fictitious descrip- 
tion. Much may also be gained by a lively display of a 
modern fete, such as we have daily recorded in that part 
of a newspaper entitled the Mirror of Fashion, if we 
contrast these, or either of thena, with the splendid for- 
mality of an entertainment giveji Sixty Years Since ; 
and thus it will be readily seen how much the painter of 
antique or of fashionable manners gains over him who 
delineates those of the last generation. 

Considering the disadvantages inseparable from this 
part of my subject, I must be understood to have resolv- 
ed to avoid them as much as possible, by throwing the 
force of my narrative upon the characters and passions 
of the actors ; — those passions common to men in all 
stages of society, and which have alike agitated the hu- 
man heart, whether it throbbed under the steel corslet 
of the fifteenth century, the brocaded coat of the eigh- 
teenth, or the blue frock and white dimity waistcoat of 
the present day.^ Upon these passions it is no doubt true 
that the state of manners and laws casts a necessary 
colouring ; but the bearings, to use the language of her- 
aldry, remain the same, though the tincture may be not 
only different, but opposed in strong contradistinction. 
The wrath of our ancestors, for example, was coloured 
gules ; it broke forth m acts of open and sanguinary 
violence against the objects of its fury. Our malignant 
feelings, which must seek gratification through more in- 
direct channels, and undermine the obstacles which they 
cannot openly bear down, may be rather said to be tine- 


'WAVJERLEY. 


9 


lured sable. But the deep-ruling impulse is the same in 
both cases ; and the proud peer, who can now only ruin 
his neighbour according to law, by protracted suits, is the 
genuine descendant of the baron who wrapped the castle 
of his competitor in flames, and knocked him on the head 
as he endeavoured to escape from the conflagration. It 
is from the great book of Nature, the same through a 
thousand editions, whether of black-letter, or wire-wove 
and hot-pressed, that I have venturously essayed to read 
a chapter to the public. Some favourable opportunities 
of contrast have been afforded me, by the state of society 
in the northern part of the island at the period of my 
history, and may serve at once to vary and to illustrate 
the moral lessons which I vvould willingly consider as the 
most important part of my plan, although I am sensible 
how short these will fall of their aim, if I shall be found 
unable to mix them with amusement, — a task not quite 
so easy in this critical generation as it was ‘‘ Sixty Years 
Since.” 


CHAPTER II. 

Waverley-Honour, — A Retrospect, 

It is, then, sixty years since Edward Waverley, the 
hero of the following pages, took leave of his family to 
join the regiment of dragoons in which he had lately 
obtained a commission. It was a melancholy day at 
Waverley-Honour when the young officer parted with 
Sir Everard, the affectionate old yncle to whose title and 
estate he was presumptive heir. A difference in political 
opinions had early separated the baronet from his youn- 
ger brother, Richard Waverley, the father of our hero. 
Sir Everard had inherited from his sires the whole train 
of tory or high-church predilections and prejudices- 


10 


WAVERLEY. 


which had distinguished the house of Waverley since 
the great civil war. Richard, on the contrary, who was 
ten years younger, beheld himself born to the fortune of 
a second brother, and anticipated neither dignity nor 
entertainment in sustaining the character of Will Wim- 
ble. He saw early, that to succeed in the race of life, 
it was necessary he should carry as little weight as pos- 
sible. Painters talk of the difficulty of expressing the 
existence of compound passions in the same features at 
the same moment : It would be no less difficult for the 
moralist to analyze the mixed motives which unite to 
form the impulse of our actions. Richard Waverley 
read and satisfied himself from history and sound argu- 
ment that, in the words of the old song. 

Passive obedience was a jest, 

And pshaw ! was non-resistance j ’■ 

yet reason would have probably been unable to combat 
and remove hereditary prejudice, could Richard have 
anticipated that his elder brother. Sir Everard, taking to 
heart an early disappointment, would have remained a 
bachelor at seveniy-two. The prospect of succession, 
however remote, might in that case, have led him to en- 
dure dragging through the greater part of his life as “ Mas- 
ter Richard at the Hall, the baronet’s brother,” in the 
hope that ere its conclusion he should be distinguished 
as Sir Richard Waverley of Waverley-Honour, succes- 
sor to a princely estate, and to extended political con- 
nexions as head of the county interest in the shire where 
it lay. But this was a consummation of things not to 
be expected at Richard’s outset, when Sir Everard was 
in the prime of life, and certain to be an acceptable suitor 
in ahnost any family, whether wealth or beauty should be 
the object of his pursuit, and when, indeed, his speedy 
marriage was a report which regularly amused the 
neighbourhood once a-year. His younger brother saw 
no practicable road to independence save that of relying 
upon his own exertions, and adopting a political creed more 
consonant both to reason and his own interest than ihr 


WAVEKLEY. 


11 


hereditary faith of Sir Everard in High-church and in 
the hous^ of Stuart. He therefore read his recantation 
at the beginning of his career, and entered life as an 
avowed whig, and friend of the Hanover succession. 

The ministry of George the First’s time were prudent- 
ly anxious to diminish the phalanx of opposition. The 
tory nobility, depending for their reflected lustre upon the 
sunshine of a court, had for some time been gradually 
reconciling themselves to the new dynasty. But the 
wealthy country gentlemen of England, a rank which 
retained, with much of ancient manners and primitive 
integrity, a great proportion of obstinate and unyielding 
prejudice, stood aloof in haughty and sullen opposition, 
and cast many a look of mingled regret and hope to 
Bois le Due, Avignon, and Italy .2 The accession of the 
near relation of one of these steady and inflexible op- 
ponents was considered as a means of bringing over 
more converts, and therefore Richard Waverley met 
with a share of ministerial favour, more than proportion- 
ed to his talents or his political importance. It was, 
however, discovered that he had respectable talents for 
public business, and the first admittance to the minister’s 
levee being negotiated, his success became rapid Sir 
Everard learned from the public News Letter, first, that 
Richard Waverley, Esquire, was returned for the minis- 
terial borough of Barterfaith ; next, that Richard Waver- 
ley, Esquire, had taken a distinguished part in the 
debate upon the Excise Bill in the support of govern- 
ment ; and, lastly, that Richard Waverley,Esquire, had 
been honoured with a seat at one of those boards, where 
the pleasure of serving the country is combined with 
other important gratifications, which, to render them the 
more acceptable, occur regularly once a-quarter. 

Although these events followed each other so closely 
that the sagacity of the editor of a modern newspaper 
would have presaged the two last even while he 
announced the first, yet they came upon Sir Everard 
gradually, and drop by drop, as it were, distilled 


12 


WAVERLEY. 


through the cool and procrastinating alembic of Dyer’s 
Weekly Letter.^ For it may be observed ir** passing 
that, instead of those mail-coaches, by means of 
which every mechanic at his six-penny club may 
nightly learn from twenty contradictory channels the 
yesterday’s news of the capital, a weekly post brought, 
in those days, to Waverley-Honour, a Weekly Intelli- 
gencer, which, after it had gratified Sir Everard’s curi- 
osity, his sister’s, and that of his aged butler, was regu- 
larly transferred from the hall to the rectory, from the 
rectory to Squire Stubb’s at the Grange, from the Squire 
to the baronet’s steward at his neat white house on the 
heath, from the steward to the bailiff, and from him 
through a huge circle of honest dames and gaffers, by 
whose hard and horny hands it was generally worn to 
pieces in about a month after its arrival. 

This slow succession of intelligence was of some ad- 
vantage to Richard Waverley in the case before us ; for, 
had the sum total of his enormities reached the ears of 
Sir Everard at once, there can be no doubt that the new 
commissioner would have had little reason to pique him- 
self on the success of his politics. The baronet, al- 
though the mildest of human beings, was not without 
sensitive points in his character ; his brother’s conduct 
had wounded these deeply ; the Waverley estate was 
fettered by no entail, (for it had never entered into the 
head of any of its former possessors that one of their 
progeny could be guilty of the atrocities laid by Dyer’s 
Letter to the door of Richard,) and if it had, the mar- 
riage of the proprietor might have been fatal to a collat- 
eral heir. These various ideas floated through the 
brain of Sir Everard, without, however, producing any 
determined conclusion. 

He examined the tree of his genealogy, which, em- 
blazoned with many an emblematic mark of honour and 
heroic achievement, hung upon the well-varnished wain- 
scot of his hall. The nearest descendants of Sir Hilde- 
brand Waverley, failing those of his eldest son Wilfred, 


WAVE RLE Y. 


13 


of whom Sir Everard and his brother were the only 
representatives, were, as this honoured register informed 
him, (and indeed, as he himself well knew) the Waver- 
leys of Highley Park, com. Hants; with whom the main 
branch, or rather stock, of the house had renounced all 
connexion, since the great law-suit in 1670. Thisdegen- 
arate scion had committed a farther offence against the 
head and source of their gentility, by the intermarriage of 
their representative with Judith, heiress of Oliver Brad- 
shawe, of Highley Park, whose arms, the same with 
those of Bradshawe the regicide, they had quartered 
with the ancient coat of W^averley. These offences, 
however, had vanished from Sir Everard’s recollection in 
the heat of his resentment, and had Lawyer Clippurse, for 
whom his groom was despatched express, arrived but an 
hour earlier, he might have had the benefit of drawing 
a new settlement of the lordship and manor of Waver- 
ley-Honour, with all its dependencies. But an hour of 
cool reflection is a great matter, when employed in 
weighing the comparative evil of two measures, to 
neither of which we are internally partial. Lawyer Clip- 
purse found his patron involved inadeep Study, which 
he was too respectful to. disturb, otherwise than by pro- 
ducing his paper and leathern ink-case, as prepared to 
minute his honour’s commands. Even this slight ma- 
noeuvre was embarrassing to Sir Everard, who felt it as 
a reproach to his indecision. He looked at the attor- 
ney with some desire to issue his fiat, when the sun, 
emerging from behind a cloud, poured at once its cheq- 
uered light through the stained window of the gloomy 
cabinet in which they were seated. The baronet’s eye, 
as he raised it to the splendour, fell right upon the cen- 
tral scutcheon, impressed with the same device which 
his ancestor was said to have borne in the field of Hast- 
ings ; three ermines passant, argent, in a field azure, 
with its appropriate motto, sans tache. ‘‘ May our name 
rather perish,” exclaimed Sir Everard, “ than that ancient 

VOL. I. 


14 


WAVERLEY. 


and loyal symbol should be blended with the dishonour- 
ed insignia of a traitorous round-head !” 

All this was the effect of the glimpse of a sunbeam 
just sufficient to light Lawyer Clippurse to mend hi 
pen. The pen was mended in vain. The attorney 
was dismissed, with directions to hold himself in readi- 
ness on the first summons. 

The apparition of Lawyer Clippurse at the Hall oc- 
casioned much speculation in that portion of the world 
to which Waverley-Honour formed the centre : But the 
more judicious politicians of this microcosm augured 
yet worse consequences to Richard Waverley from a 
movement which shortly followed his apostacy. This 
was no less than an excursion of the baronet in his coach 
and six, with four attendants in rich liveries, to make a 
visit of some duration to a noble peer on the confines of 
the shire, of untainted descent, steady tory principles, 
and the hapjiy father of six unmarried and accomplished 
daughters. Sir Everard’s reception in this family was, 
as it may be easily conceived, sufficiently favourable ; 
but of the six young ladies, his taste unlortunately de- 
termined him in favour of Lady Emily, the youngest, 
who received his attentions with an embarrassment which 
showed at once, that she durst not decline them, and that 
they afforded her anything but pleasure. Sir Everard could 
not but ])erceive something uncommon in the restrain- 
ed emotions which the young lady testified at the ad- 
vances he hazarded ; but assured by the prudent coun- 
tess that they were the natural effects of a retired edu- 
cation, the sacrifice might have been completed, as 
doubtless has happened in many similar instances, had 
it not been for the courage of an elder sister, wlio re- 
vealed to the wealthy suitor that Lady Emily’s affections 
were fixed upon a young soldier of fortune, a near re- 
lation of her own. Sir Everarcl manifested great emo- 
tion on receiving this intelligence, which was confirmed 
to him, in a private interview, by the young lady herself, 
although under the most dreadful apprehensions of her 
father’s indignation. Honour and generosity were here- 


W AYE RLE Y. 


15 


ditary attributes of the house of Waverley. With a 
grace and delicacy worthy the hero of a romance, Sir 
Everard withdrew his claim to the hand of Lady Emily. 
He had even, before leaving Blandeville Castle, the ad- 
dress to extort from her father a consent to her union 
with the object of her choice. What arguments he used 
on this point cannot exactly be known, for Sir Everard 
was never supposed sM*ong in the powers of persuasion ; 
but the young officer, immediately after this transaction, 
rose in the army with a rapidity far surpassing the usual 
pace of unpatronized professional merit, although, to 
outward appearance, that was all he had to depend upon. 

The shock which Sir Everard encountered upon this 
occasion, although diminished by the consciousness of 
having acted virtuously and generously, had its effect 
upon his future life. His resolution of marriage had 
been adopted in a fit of indignation ; the labour of court- 
ship did not quite suit the dignified indolence of his 
habits ; he had but just escaped th*e risk of marrying a 
woman who could never love him, and his pride could 
not be greatly flattered by the termination of his amour, 
even if his heart had not suffered. The result of the 
whole matter was his return to Waverley-Honour with- 
out any transfer of his affections, notwithstanding the 
sighs’and languishments of the fair tell-tale, who had 
revealed, in mere sisterly affection, the secret of Lady 
Emily’s attachment, and in despite, of the nods, winks, 
and innuendoes of the officious lady mother, and the 
grave eulogiums which the earl pronounced successively 
on the prudence, and good sense, and admirable dispo- 
sitions of his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth daugh- 
ters. The memor} of his unsuccessful amour was 
with Sir Everard, as with many more of his temper, at 
once shy, proud, sensitive, and indolent, a beacon against 
exposing himself to similar mortification, pain, and fruit- 
less exertion for the time to come. He continued to 
live at Waverley-Honour in the style of an old English 
gentleman, of an ancientdescent and opulent fortune. His 
sister, Miss Rachel Waverley, presided at his table. 


16 


WAVERLEY. 


and they became, by degrees, an old bachelor and an 
ancient maiden lady, the gentlest and kindest of the vo- 
taries of celibacy. 

The vehemence of Sir Everard’s resentment against 
his brother was but short-lived ; yet his dislike to the 
whig and the placeman, though unable to stimulate him 
to resume any active measures prejudicial to Richard’s 
interest, in the succession to the family estate, continued 
to maintain the coldness between them. Richard knew 
enough of the world, and of his brother’s temper, to be- 
lieve that by any ill-considered or precipitate advances 
on his part, he might turn passive dislike into a more 
active principle. It was accident, therefore, which at 
length occasioned a renewal of their intercourse. Rich- 
ard had married a young, woman of rank, by whose fam- 
ily interest and private fortune he hoped to advance his 
career. In her right, he became possessor of a manor 
'of some value, at the distance of a few miles from Wa- 
verley-Honour. 

Little Edward, the hero of our tale, then in his fifth 
year, was their only child. It chanced that the infant 
with his maid had strayed one morning to a mile’s dis- 
tance from the avenue of Brere-wood Lodge, his father’s 
seat. Their attention was attracted by a carriage drawn 
by six stately long-tailed black horses, and with as much 
carving and gilding as would have done honour to my 
lord mayor’s. It was waiting for the owner, who was at 
a little distance insp'ecting the progress of a half-built 
farm-house. I know not whether the boy’s nurse had 
been a Welsh or a Scotch-woman, or in what manner he 
associated a shield emblazoned with three ermines with 
the idea of personal property, but he no sooner beheld 
this family emblem, than he stoutly determined on vindi- 
cating his right to the splendid vehicle on which it was 
displayed. The baronet arrived while the boy’s maid 
was in vain endeavouring to make him desist from his 
determination to appropriate the gilded coach and six. 
The rencontre was at a happy moment for Edward, as 
his uncle bad been just eyeing wistfully, with something 


WAYERLEY. 


17 


of a feeling like envy, the chubby boys of the stout yeo- 
man whose mansion was building by his direction. Jn the 
round-faced rosy cherub before him, bearing his eye and 
his name, and vindicating a hereditary title to his family, 
affection, and patronage, by means of a tie which Sir 
Everard held as sacred as either Garter or Blue-rnantle, 
Providence seemed to have granted to him the very ob- 
ject best calculated to fill up the void in his hopes and 
affections. Sir Everard returned to Waverley-Hall upon 
a led horse, which was kept in readiness for him, while 
the child and his attendant were sent home in the car- 
riage to Brere-wood Lodge, with such a message as open- 
ed to Richard Waverley a door of reconciliation with his 
elder brother. 

Their intercourse, how^ever, though thus renewed, 
continued to be rather formal and civil, than partaking oi 
brotherly cordiality ; yet it was sufficient to the wishes 
of hoth parties. Sir Everard obtained, in the frequent 
society of his little nephew, something on which his he- 
reditary pride might found the anticipated pleasure of a 
continuation of his lineage, and where his krnd and gen- 
tle affections could at the same time fully exercise them- 
selves. For Richard Waverley, he beheld in the grow- 
ing attachment between the uncle and nephew the means 
of securing his son’s, if not his own, succession to the 
hereditary estate, which he felt would be rather endan- 
gered than promoted by any attempt on his own part 
towards a closer intimacy with a man of Sir Everard’s 
habits and opinions. 

Thus, by a sort of tacit compromise, little Edward 
was permitted to pass the greater part of the year at the 
Hall, and appeared to stand in the same intimate relation 
to both families, although their mutual intercourse was 
otherwise limited to formal messages, and more formal 
visits. The education of the youth was regulated alter- 
nately by the taste and opinions of his uncle and of his 
father. But more of this in a subsequent chapter. 

VOL. I. 


IS 


WAVERLEY 


CHAPTER III 
Education. 

The education of our hero, Edward Waverley, was 
of a nature somewhat desultory. In infancy his health 
suffered, or was supposed to suffer, (which is quite the 
same thing) by the air of London. As soon, therefore, 
as official duties, attendance on parliament, or the pros- 
ecution of any of his plans of interest or ambition, cal- 
led his father to town, which was his usual residence 
for eight months in the year, Edward was transferred to 
' Waverley-Honour, and experienced a total change of in- 
structors and of lessons, as well as of residence. This 
might have been remedied, had his father placed him 
under the superintendence of a permanent tutor. But 
he considered that one of his choosing would probably 
have been unacceptable at Waverley-Honour, and that 
such a selection as Sir EvCrard might have made, were 
the matter left to him, would have burdened him with 
a disagreeable inmate, if not a political spy, in his fam- 
ily. He therefore prevailed upon his private secretary, 
a young man of taste and accomplishments, to bestow an 
hour or two on Edward’s education while atBrere-wbod 
Lodge, and left his uncle answerable for his improve 
tnent in literature wdiile an inmate at the Hall. 

This was in some degree respectably provided for. 
Sir Everard’s chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his 
fellowship for declining to take the oaths at the accession 
of George I. was not only an excellent classical scholar, 
but reasonably skilled in science, and master of most 
modern languages. He was, however, old and indulgent, 
and the recurring interregnum, during which Edward was 
entirely freed from his discipline, occasioned such a re- 


WAfERLEY. 


19 


laxation of authority, that the youth was permitted, in a 
great measure, to learn as he pleased, what he pleased, and 
when he pleased. This slackness of rule might have been 
ruinous to a boy of slow understanding, who, feeling labour 
in the acquisition of knowledge, would have altogether 
neglected it, save for the command of a task-master ; and 
it might have proved equally dangerous to a youtli whose 
animal spirits were more powerful than his imagination or 
his feelings, and whom the irresistible influence of Alrna 
would have engaged in field sports, from morning till 
night. But the character of Edward Waverley was re- 
mote from either of these. His powers of apprehension 
were so uncommonly quick, as^ almost to resemble intui- 
tion, and the chief care of his preceptor was to prevent 
him, as a sportsman would phrase it, from over-running 
his game, that is, from acquiring his knowledge in a slight, 
flimsy, and inadequate manner. And here the instructer 
had to combat another propensity too often united with 
brilliancy of fancy and vivacity of talent, — that indolence, 
namely, of disposition, which can only be stirred by some 
strong motive of gratification, and which renounces study 
as soon as curiosity is gratified, the pleasure of conquer- 
ing the first difficulties exhausted, and the novelty of 
pursuit at an end. Edward would throw himself with 
spirit upon any classical author of which his preceptor 
proposed the perusal, make himself master of the style 
so far as to understand the story, and if that pleased or 
interested him, he finished the volume. But it was in 
vain to attempt fixing his attention on critical distinctions 
of philology, upon the difference of idiom, the beauty 
of felicitous expression, or the artificial combinations of 
syntax. “ I can read and understand a Latin author,” 
said young Edward, with the self-confidence and rash 
reasoning of fifteen, “ and Scaliger or Bentley could not 
do much more.” Alas ! while he was thus permitted to 
read only for the gratification of his amusement, he 
ibresaw not that he was losing for ever the opportunity 
of acquiHng habits of firm and assiduous application. 

4 


20 


WAVE RLE Y. 


of gaining the art of controlling, directing, and concent] at- 
ing the powers of his mind for earnest investigation, — an 
art far more essential than even that intimate acquaintance 
with classical learning which is the primary object of study. 

I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity 
of rendering instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tas- 
so’s infusion of honey into the medicine prepared for a 
child ; but an age in which children are taught the driest 
doctrines by the insinuating method of instructive games, 
has little reason to dread the consequences of study being 
rendered too serious or severe. The History of England 
is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of 
mathematics to puzzles a^^d riddles, and the doctrines of 
arithmetic may, we are assured, be sufficiently acquired 
by spending a few hours a-week at a new and complicat- 
ed edition of the Royal Game of the Goose. There 
wants but one step further, and the Creed and Ten 
Commandments may be taught in the same manner, 
without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate tone 
of recital, and devout attention, hitherto exacted from the 
well-governed childhood of this realm. It may in the 
mean time be subject of serious consideration, whether 
those who are accustomed only to acquire instruction 
through the medium of amusement, may not be brought 
to reject that which approaches under the aspect of 
study ; whether those who learn history by the cards, 
may not be led to prefer the means to the end ; and 
whether, were W’e to teach religion in the w^ay of sport, 
our pupils may not thereby be gradually induced to 
make sport of their religion. To our young hero, who 
was permitted to seek his instruction only according to 
the. bent of his owm mind, and wdio, of consequence, only 
sought it so long as it afforded him amusement, the in- 
dulgence of his tutors was attended with evil consequen- 
ces, which long continued to influence his character 
happiness, and utility. Edw'ard’s powder of imagination 
and love of literature, although the foriaer was vivid, and 
the latter ardent, were so far from affosling a^ remedy 
to this peculiar evil that they rather inflamed and in- 


WAVEULEY. 


21 


creased its violence. The library at Waverley-Honc or, 
a large Gothic room, with double arches and a gallery, 
contained such a miscellaneous and extensive collection 
of volumes as had been assembled together, during the 
course of two hundred years, by a family which had been 
always wealthy, and inclined, of course, as a mark of splen- 
dour, to furnish their shelves with the current literature of 
the day, without much scrutiny, or nicety of discrimination. 
Throughout this ample realm Edward was permitted to 
roam at large. His tutor had his own studies ; and 
church politics and controversial divinity, together with 
a love of learned ease, though they did not withdraw his 
attention at stated times from the progress of his patron’s 
presumptive heir, induced him readily to grasp at any 
apology for not extending a strict and regulated survey 
towards his general studies. Sir Everard had never 
been himself a student, and, like his sister Miss Rachel 
Waverley, held the common doctrine, Miat idleness is in- 
• compatible with reading of any kind, and that the mere 
tracing the alphabetical characters with the eye, is in 
itself a useful and meritorious task, without scrupulously 
considering what ideas or doctrines they may happen to 
convey. With a desire of amusement therefore, which 
oetter discipline might soon have converted into a thirst 
for knowledge, young Waverley drove through the sea 
of books, like a vessel without a pilot or a rudder. 
Nothing perhaps increases by indulgence more than a 
desultory habit of reading, especially under such oppor- 
tunities of gratifying it. I believe one reason why such i 
numerous instances of erudition occur among the lower 
rank is, that, with the same powers of mind, the poor 
student is limited to a narrow circle for indulging his 
passion for books, and must necessarily make himself 
master of the few he possesses ere he can acquire more. , 
Edward, on the contrary, like the epicure who only 
deigned to take a single morsel from the sunny side of a 
peach, read no volume a moment after it ceased to excite 
his curiosity or interest ; and it necessarily ha])pened, 
"that the habit of seeking onlv this sort of gratification 


22 


WAVERJ.EY. 


rendered it daily more difficult of attainment, till the 
passion for reading, like other strong appetites, produced 
by indulgence a sort of satiety. 

Ere he attained this indifference, however, i.e had read 
and stored in a memory of uncommon tenacity, much 
curious, though ill-arranged and miscellaneous informa- 
tion. In English literature he was master of Shakspeare 
and Milton, of our earlier dramatic authors, of many 
picturesque and interesting passages from our old histor- 
ical chronicles, and was particularly well acquainted with 
Spenser, Drayton, and other poets who have exercised 
themselves on romantic fiction, of all themes the most 
fascinating to a youthful imagination, before the passions 
have roused themselves,and demand poetry of a more sen- 
timental description. In this respect his acquaintance with 
Italian opened him yet a wider range. He had perused 
the numerous romantic poems, which, from the days of 
Pulci, have been a favourite exercise of the wits of Italy, 
and had sought gratification in the numerous collections 
of novelle which were brought forth by the genius of 
that elegant though luxurious nation, in emulation of the 
Decameron. In classical literature, Waverley had made 
the usual progress, and read the usual authors ; and the 
French had afforded him an almost exhaustless collection 
of memoirs, scarcely more faithful than romances, and of 
romances so well written as hardly to be distinguished 
from memoirs. The splendid pages of Froissart, with 
his heart-stirring and eye-dazzling descriptions of war and 
of tournaments, were among his chief favourites ; and 
from those of Brantome and De la None he learned to 
compare the wild and loose, yet superstitious character 
of the nobles of the League, with the stern, rigid, and 
sometimes turbulent disposition of the Huguenot party. 
The Spanish had contributed to his stock of chivalrous 
and romantic lore. The earlier literature of the northern 
nations did not escape the study of one who read, rather 
to awaken the imagination than to benefit the understand- 
ing. And yet, knowing much that is known but to few, 
Edwa^'d Waverley might justly be considered as ignorant ’ 


W AVl:ULE'i . 


2.i 

since he knew little of what adds dignity to man, and 
qualifies him to support and adorn an elevated situation 
in society. 

The occasional attention of his parents might indeed 
have been of service, to prevent the dissipation of mind 
incidental to such a desultory course of reading. But 
his mother died in the seventh year after the recon- 
ciliation between the brothers, and Richard Waverley 
himself, who, after this event, resided more constantly in 
London, was too much interested in his own plans of 
wealth and ambition, to notice more respecting Edward, 
than that he was of a very bookish turn, and probably 
destined to be a bishop. If he could have discovered 
and analyzed his son’s waking dreams, he would have 
formed a verv different conclusion. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Castle-Building. 

I HAVE already hinted, that the dainty, squeamish, and 
fastidious taste acquired by a surfeit of idle reading, had 
not only rendered our hero unfit for serious and sober 
study, but had even disgusted him in some degree with 
that in which h6 had hitherto indulged. He was in his 
sixteenth year, when his habits of abstraction and love of 
solitude became so much marked, as to excite Sir Evc- 
rard’s aflectionate apprehension. He tried to counter- 
balance these propensities, by engaging his nephew in 
field-sports, which had been tfie chief pleasure of his 
own youthful days. But although Edward eagerly car- 
ried the gun for one season, yet when practice had given 
him some dexterity, the pastime ceased to afford him 
amusement. In the succeeding spring, the perusal of old 
Isaac Walton’s fascinating \mlume determined Edward to 
become “ a brother of the angle.” But of all diversions 
which "ngenulty ever devised for the relief of idleness, fish- 


24 


WAVEKLEY. 


ing IS the worst qualified to amuse a man who is at once 
indolent and impatient ; and our hero’s rod was speedily 
flung aside. Society and example, which, more than any 
other motives, master and sway the natural bent of our 
passions, might have had their usual effect upon the youth- 
ful visionary. But the neighbourhood was thinly inhabited, 
and the home-bred young squires whom it afforded, were 
not of a class fit to form Edward’s usual companions, far 
less to excite him to emulation in the practice of those pas- 
times which composed the serious business of their lives. 

There were a few other youths of better education, and 
a more liberal character, but from their society also our hero 
was in some degree excluded. Sir Everard had, upon the 
death of Queen Anne, resigned his seat in parliament, and, 
as his age increased and the number of his contempora- 
ries diminished, had gradually withdrawn himself from 
society ; so that, when, upon any particular occasion, 
Edward mingled with accomplished and well-educated 
young men of his own rank and expectations, he felt an 
inferiority in their company, not so much from deficiency 
of information, as from the want of the skill to command 
and to arrange that which he possessed. A deep and 
increasing sensibility added to this dislike of society. 
The idea of having committed the slightest solecism in 
politeness, whether real or imaginary, was agony to him : 
for perhaps even guilt itself does not impose upon some 
minds so keen a sense of shame and renfbrse,as a mod- 
est, sensitive, and inexperienced youth feels from the 
consciousness of having neglected etiquette, or excited 
ridicule. Where we are not at ease, we cannot be hap- 
py ; and therefore it is not surprising, that Edward Wa- 
verley supposed that he disliked and was unfitted for 
society, merely because he had not yet acquired the 
habit of living in it with ease and comfort, and of recip- 
rocally giving and receiving pleasure. The hours he 
3pent with his uncle and aunt were exhausted in listening 
to the oft-repeated tale of narrative old age. Yet even 
there his imagination, the predominant faculty of his 
mind, was frequently excited. Family tradition and 


WAVERLEY. 


25 


genealogical history, upon which much of Sir Everard’s 
discourse turned, is the very reverse of amber, which, 
itself a valuable substance, usually includes flies, straws, 
and other trifles, whereas these studies, being themselves 
very insignificant and trifling, do nevertheless serve to 
perpetuate a great deal of what is rare and valuable in 
ancient manners, and to record many curious and minute 
facts which could have been preserved and conveyed 
through no other. medium. * If, therefore, Edward Waver- 
ley yawned at times over the dry deduction of his line 
of ancestors, with their various intermarriages, and in- 
wardly deprecated the remorseless and protracted accu- 
racy with which the worthy Sir Everard rehearsed the 
various degrees of propinquity between the house of 
Waverley-Honour and the doughty barons, knights, and 
squires, to whom they stood allied ; if (notwithstanding 
his obligations to the three ermines passant) he sometimes 
cursed in his heart the jargon of heraldry, its griffins, 
its moldwarps, its wiverns, and its dragons, with all the 
bitterness of Hotspur himself, there were moments when 
these communications interested his fancy and rewarded 
his attention. The deeds of Wilibert of Waverley in the 
Holy Land, his long absence and perilous adventures, 
his supposed death, and his return on the evening when 
the betrothed of his heart had wedded the hero who had 
protected her from insult and oppression during his ab- 
sence ; the generosity with which the crusader relinquish- 
ed his claims, and sought in a neighbouring cloister that 
peace which passeth not away ;^to these and similar tales 
he would hearken till his heart glowed and his eye glis- 
tened. Nor was he less affected, when his aunt, Mrs. 
Rachel narrated the sufferings and fortitude of Lady 
Alice Waverley during the great civil war. The benevo- 
lent features of ^fhe venerable spinster kindled into more 
majestic expression as she told how Charles had, after the 
field of Worcester, found a day’s refuge at Waverley- 
Honour, and how, when a troop of cavalry were ap 
proachi ig to search the mansion. Lady Alice dismissed 

VOL. I. 


26 


WAVERLEY. 


her youngest son with a handful of domestics, charging 
them to make good with their lives an hour’s diversion, 
that the king might have that space for escape. ‘‘ And, 
God help her,” would Mrs. Rachel continue, fixing her 
eyes upon the heroine’s portrait as she spoke, “ full dearly 
did she purchase the safety of her prince with the life 
of her darling child. They brought him here a prisoner, 
mortally wounded, and you may trace the drops of his 
blood from the great hall-door, along the little gallery, and 
up to the saloon, where they laid him down to die at his 
mother’s feet. But there was comfort exchanged be- 
tween them ; for he knew from the glance of his mother’s 
eye, that the purpose of his desperate defence was attain- 
ed — Ah ! I remember,” she continued, ‘‘ I remember 
well to have seen one that knew and loved him. Miss 
Lucy St. Aubin lived and died a maid for his sake, 
though one of the most beautiful and wealthy matches 
in this country ; all the world ran after her, but she 
wore widow’s mourning all her life for poor William, for 

they were betrothed though not married, and died in 

I cannot think of the date 5 but I remember, in the 
November of that very year, when she found herself 
sinking, she desired to be brought to Waverley-Honour 
once more, and visited all the places where she had been 
with my grand-uncle, and caused the carpets to be raised 
that she might trace the impression of his blood, and if 
tears could have washed it out, it had not been there 
now ; for there was not a dry eye in the house. You 
would have thought, Edward, that the very trees mourned 
for her, for their leaves dropped around her without a 
gust of wind ; and indeed she looked like one that would 
never see them green again.” 

From such legends our hero would steal away to in- 
dulge the fancies they excited. In th% corner of the 
large and sombre library, with no other light than was 
afforded by the decaying brands on its ponderous and 
ample hearth, he would exercise for hours that internal 
sorcery, by which past or imaginary events are present- 
ed in action, as it were, to the eye of the inuser. Then 


WAVE RLE Y. 


27 


arose in long and fair array the splendour of the bridal 
feast at Waverley-Castle ; the tall and emaciated form 
of its real lord, as he stood in his pilgrim’s weeds, an 
unnoticed spectator of the festivities of his supposed heir 
and intended bride ; the electrical shock occasioned by 
the discovery ; the springing of the vassals to arms ; the 
astonishment of the bridegroom ; the terror and confu- 
sion of the bride ; the agony with which Wilibert ob- 
served, that her heart as well as consent was in these 
nuptials; the air of dignity, yet of deep feeling with 
which he flung down th»=‘ half-drawn sword, and turned 
away for ever from the nouse of his ancestors. Then 
would he change the«cene, and fancy would at his wish 
represent Aunt Rachel’s tragedy. He saw the Lady 
VVavcrley seated in her bower, her ear strained to every 
sound, her heart throbbing with double agony ; now 
listening to the decaying echo of the hoofs of the king’s 
horse, and when that had died away, hearing in every 
breeze that shook the trees of the park, the noise of the 
remote skirmish. A distant sound is heard like the 
rushing of a swoln stream ; it comes nearer, and Ed- 
ward can plainly distinguish the galloping of horses, the 
cries and shouts of men, with straggling pistol-shots be- 
tween, rolling forwards to the hall. The lady starts 
up — a terrified menial rushes in — But why pursue such 
a description. 

As living in this ideal world became daily more de- 
lectable to our hero, interruption was disagreeable in 
proportion. The extensive domain that surrounded the 
Hall, which, far exceeding the dimensions of a park, 
was usually termed Waverley-Chase, had originally been 
forest ground, and still, though broken by extensive 
glades in which the young deer were sporting, retained 
its pristine and^avage character. It was traversed by 
broad avenues, in many places half grown up with 
brushwood, where the beauties of former days used to 
take their stand to see the stag coursed with greyhounds, 
or to gain an aim. at him with the cross-bow. In one 
si)ot dislin?:uished by j moss-grown gotliic monument, 


28 


WAVERXEY. 


which retained the name of Queen’s Standing, Eliza- 
beth herself was said to have pierced seven bucks with 
her own arrows. Tliis was a very favourite haunt of Edward 
Waverley. At other times, with his gun and his span- 
iel, which served as an apology to others, and with a 
book in his pocket, which, perhaps, served as an apolo- 
gy \o himiself, he used to pursue one of these long aven- 
ues, which, after an ascending sweep of four miles, 
gradually narrowed into a rude and contracted path 
through the cliffy and woody pass called Mirkwood 
Dingle, and opened suddenl}' upon a deep, dark, and 
small lake, named, from the same cause, Mirkwood- 
Mere. There stood in former times a solitary tower 
upon a rock almost surrounded by the water, which had 
acquired the name of the Strength of Waverley, be- 
cause, in perilous times, it had often been the refuge of 
the family. There, in the wars of York and Lancas- 
ter, the last adherents of the Red Rose who dared to 
maintain her cause, carried on a harassing and preda- 
tory w’arfare, till the strong-hold was reduced by the 
celebrated Richard of Gloucester. Here, too, a party 
of cavaliers long maintained themselves under Nigel 
Waverley, elder brother of that William whose fate 
Aunt Rachel commemorated. Through these scenes 
it was that Edward loved to “ chew the cud of sw^ect 
and bitter fancy,” and, like a child among his toys, cul- 
led and arranged, from the splendid yet useless imagery 
and emblems with which his imagination was stored, 
visions as brilliant and as fading as those of an evening 
sky. The effect of this indulgence upon his temper and 
character will appear in the next chapter. 


WAVE RLE Y. 


29 


CHAPTER V. 

Choice of a Profession, 

From the minuteness with which I have traced 
VVaverley’s pursuits, and the bias which these unavoid- 
ably communicated to his imagination, the reader may 
perhaps anticipate, in the following tale, an imitation of 
the romance of Cervantes. But he will do my pru- 
dence injustice in the supposition. My intention is not 
to follow the steps of that inimitable author, in describ- 
ing such total perversion of intellect as misconstrues the 
objects actually presented to the senses, but that more 
common aberration from sound judgment, which appre- 
hends occurrences indeed in their reality, but communi- 
cates to them a tincture of its own romantic tone and 
colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expect- 
ing general sympathy with his own feelings, or conclud- 
ing that the present state of things was calculated to ex- 
hibit the reality of those visions in which he loved to 
indulge, that he dreaded nothing more than the detec- 
tion of such sentiments as were dictated by his musings. 
He neither had nor wished to have a confidant, with 
whom to communicate his reveries ; and so sensible was 
he of the ridicule attached to them, that, had he been 
to choose between any punishment short of ignominy, 
and the necessity of giving a cold and composed ac- 
count of the ideal world in which he lived the better 
part of his days, I think , he would not have hesitated to 
prefer the former infliction. This secrecy became 
doubly precious, as he felt in advancing life the influence 
of the awakening passions. Female forr is of exquisite 
grace and beauty began to mingle in his mental adven- 
von. ) 


30 


WAVERLEY. 


tiires ; nor was he long without looking abroad to com- 
pare the creatures of his own imagination with the 
females of actual life. The list of the beauties who 
displayed their hebdomadal finery at the parish church 
of Waverley was neither numerous nor select. By far 
the most passable was Miss Sissly, or, as she rather 
chose to be called, Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter of 
Squire Stubbs at the Grange. I know not whether it 
was by the ‘‘merest accident in the world,” a phrase 
which, from female lips, does not always exclude vialice 
'prepense, or whether it was from a conformity of taste, 
that Miss Cecilia more than once crossed Edward in 
his favourite walks through Waverley-Chase. He had 
not as yet assumed courage to accost her on these oc- 
casions ; but the meeting was not without its effect. A 
romantic lover is a strange idolater, who sometimes cares 
not out of what log he frames the object of his adora- 
tion ; at least, if nature has given that object any passa- 
ble proportion of personal charms, he can easily play 
the Jeweller and Dervise in the oriental tale,* and sup- 
ply her richly, out of the stores of his own imagination, 
with supernatural beauty, and all the properties of in- 
tellectual wealth. But ere the charms of Miss Cecilia 
Stubbs had erected her into a positive goddess, or ele- 
vated her at least to a level with the saint her namesake, 
Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimation which 
determined her to prevent the approaching apotheo- 
sis. Even the most simple and unsuspicious of the fe- 
male sex have (God bless them !) an instinctive sharp- 
ness of perception in such matters, which sometimes 
goes the length of observing partialities that never ex- 
isted, but rarely misses to detect such as pass actually 
under their observation. Mrs. Rachel applied herself, 
with great prudence, not to combat, but to elude, the 
approaching danger, and suggested to her brother the? 
necessity that the heir of his house should see some- 
thing more of the world than was consistent with con- 


** See Hoppner’s Tale of the Seven I oVers 


WAVE RLE Y. 


31 


Slant residence at Waverley-Honour. Sir Everard would 
not at first listen to a proposal which went to separate 
his nephew from him. Edward was a little bookish, he 
admitted ; but youth, he had always heard, was the 
season for learning, and, no doubt, when his rage for 
letters was abated, and his head fully stocked with 
knowledge, his nephew would take to field-sports and- 
country business. He had often, he said, himself re- 
gretted that he had not spent some time in study during 
liis youth : he would neitlier have shot nor hunted with 
less skill, and he might have made the roof of St. Ste- 
phen’s echo to longer orations than were comprised in 
those zealous Noes, with which, when a member of the 
house during Godolphin’s administration, he encounter- 
ed every measure of government. 

Aunt Rachel’s anxiety, however, lent her address to 
carry her point. Every representative of their house 
had visited foreign parts, or served his country in the 
army, before he settled for life at Waverley-Honour, 
and she appealed for the truth of her assertion to the 
genealogical pedigree, an authority which Sir Everard 
was never known to contradict. In short, a proposal was 
made to Mr. Richard Waverley, that his son should travel, 
under the direction of his present tutor, Mr. Pembroke, 
with a suitable allowance from the baronet’s liberality. 
Tlie father himself saw no objection to this overture ; but 
upon mentioning it casually at the table of the minister, 
the great man looked grave. The reason was explain- 
ed in private. The unhappy turn of Sir Everard’s 
politics, the minister observed, was such as would render 
it highly improper that a young gentleman of such hope- 
ful prospects should travel on the continent with a tutor 
doubtless of his uncle’s choosing, and directing his course 
by his instructions. What might Mr. Edward Waver- 
ley’s society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all man- 
ner of snares were spread by the Pretender and his sons ; 
these were points for Mr. Waverley to consider. This 
he could himself say, that he knew his majesty had 
such a jest sense of" Mr. Richard Waverley’s merits 


32 


WAVEIILET. 


that if his son adopted the army for a few years, a 
troop, he believed, might be reckoned upon in one of 
the dragoon regiments lately returned from Flanders. 
A bin* thus conveyed and enforced, was not to be neg- 
lected with impunity ; and Richard Waverley, though 
with great dread of shocking bis brother’s prejudices, 
deemed he could not avoid accepting the commission 
thus offered him for his son. The truth is, he calculat- 
ed much, and justly, upon Sir Everard’s fondness for 
Edward, which made him unlikely to resent any step that 
he might take in due submission to parental authority. 
Two letters announced this determination to the baronet 
and his nephew. The latter barely communicated the 
fact, and pointed out the necessary preparations for 
joining his regiment. To his brother, Richard was more 
diffuse and circuitous. He coincided with him in the 
most flattering manner in the propriety of his son’s see- 
ing a little more of the world, and was even humble in 
expressions of gratitude for his proposed assistance ; 
was, however, deeply concerned that it was now, unfor- 
tunately, not in Edward’s power exactly to comply with 
the plan which had been chalked out by his best friend 
and benefactor. He himself had thought with pain on 
the boy’s inactivity, at an age when all his ancestors had 
borne arms ; even Royalty itself had deigned to in- 
quire whether young Waverley was not now in Flanders, 
at an age when his grandfather was already bleeding for 
his king in the great Civil War. This was accompa- 
nied by an offer of a troop of horse. What could he do F 
There was no time to consult his brother’s inclinations, 
even if he could have conceived there might be objec- 
tions on his part to his nephew’s following the glorious 
career of his predecessors. And, in short, that Edward 
,vas now (the intermediate steps of cornet and lieuten- 
ant being overleapt with great agility) Captain Waver- 
ley, of Gardiner’s regiment of Dragoons, which he must 
join in their quarters at Dundee in Scotland, in the course 
of a month. 


WAYERLEY. 


33 


Sir Everard Waverley received this intimation with a 
mixture of feelings. At the period of the Hanoverian 
succession he had withdrawn from parliament, and his 
conduct, in the memorable year 1715, had not been al- 
together unsuspected. There were reports of private 
musters of tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase by 
moonlight, and of cases of carbines and pistols purchas- 
ed in Holland, and addressed to the baronet, but inter- 
cepted by the vigilance of a riding officer of the excise, 
who was afterwards tossed in a blanket on a moonless 
night, by an association of stout yeomen, for his offi- 
ciousness. Nay, it was even said, that at the arrest of 
Sir William Wyndham, the leader of the tory party, a letter 
from Sir Everard was found in the pocket of his night-gown. 
But there was no overt act which an attainder could be 
founded on, and government, contented with suppressing 
the insurrection of 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to 
push their vengeance farther than against those unfortunate 
gentlemen who actually took up arms. Nor did Sir Ev- 
erard’s apprehensions of personal consequences seem to 
correspond with the reports spread among his whig neigh- 
bours. It was well known that he had supplied with money 
se\^ral of the distressed Northumbrians and Scotchmen, 
who, after being made prisoners at Preston in Lancashire, 
were imprisoned in Newgate and the Marshalsea, and it 
was his solicitor and ordinary counsel who conducted the 
defence of some of these unfortunate gentlemen at their 
trial. It w^as generally supposed, however, that, had 
ministers possessed any real proof of Sir Everard’s ac- 
cession to the rebellion, he either would not have ventur- 
ed thus to brave the existing government, or at least 
woidd not have done so with irnpimiiy. The feelings 
which then dictated his proceedings, were those of a 
young man, and at an agitating period. Since that time 
Sir Everard’s jacobitisnl had been gradually decaying 
like a fire which burns out for want of fuel. His tory 
and high-church principles were kept up by some occa- 
sional exercise at elections and quarter-sessions ; but 
those respecting hereditary right were fallen into a sort 


34 


WAVE RLE Y. 


of abeyance. Yet it jarred severely upon his feelings, 
that his nephew should go into the army under the 
Brunswick dynasty ; and the more so, as, independent 
of his high and conscientious ideas of paternal authority, 
it was impossible, or at least highly imprudent, to inter- 
fere authoritatively to prevent it. This suppressed vex- 
ation gave rise to many poohs and pshaws, wdiich were 
placed to the account of an incipient fit of gout, until, 
having sent for the Army List, the worthy baronet con- 
soled himself with reckoning the descendants of the 
houses of genuine loyalty, Mordaunts, Granvilles, and 
Stanleys, whose names were to be found in that military 
record ; and, calling up all his feelings of family gran- 
deur and warlike glory, he concluded, with logic some- 
thing like Falstaff’s, that when war was at hand, al- 
though it were shame to be on any side but one, it were 
worse shame to be idle than to be on the worst side, 
though blacker than usurpation could make it. As for 
Aunt Rachel, her scheme had not exactly terminated 
according to her washes, but she was under the necessity 
of submitting to circumstances ; and her mortification 
was diverted by the employment she found in fitting out 
her nephew for the campaign, and greatly consoled by 
the prospect of beholding him blaze in complete uniform. 

Edward Waverley himself received with animated and 
undefined surprise this most unexpected intelligence. It 
was, as a fine old poem expresses it, “ like a fire to 
heather set,” that covers a solitary hill with smoke, and 
illumines it at the same time wdth dusky fire. His tutor, 
or, 1 should say, Mr. Pembroke, for he scarce assumed 
the name of tutor, picked up about Edward’s room some 
fragments of irregular verse, w^hich he appeared to have 
composed under the influence of the agitating feelings 
occasioned by this sudden page being turned up to him 
in the book of life. The doctor, who was a believer in 
all poetry which was composed by his friends, and WTitten 
out in fair straight lines, with a capital at the beginning 
of each, communicated this treasure to Aui)t Rachel 
who. with her spectacles dimmed wdth tears, trans- 


AVAVERLEY. 


35 


ferred them to her common-place book, among choice re- 
ceipts for cookery and medicine, favourite texts, and por- 
tions from High-church divines, and a few songs, amatory 
and jacobitical, which she had carolled in her younger 
days, from whence her nephew’s poetical teniamina were 
extracted when the volume itself, with other authentic re- 
cords of the Waverley family, were exposed to the inspec- 
tion of the unworthy editor of this memorable history. If 
they afford the reader no higher amusement, they will 
serve, at least, better than narrative of any kind, to ac- 
quaint him with the wild and irregular spirit of our lieri> : — 

Late, when the Autumn evening fell 
On IMirkwood-Mere’s romantic dell, 

The lake return’d, in chasten’d gleam. 

The purple cloud, the golden beam ; 

Reflected in the crystal jiool. 

Headland and bank lay fair and coo! : 

The weather-tinted rock and lower, 

Each drooping tree, each fairy flower 
So true, so soft, the mirror gave, ** 

As if there lay beneath the wave. 

Secure from trouble, toil, and care, 

A world than earthly world more fair 
* Rut distant winds began to wake. 

And roused the Genius of the Lake I 
He heard the groajiing of the oak. 

And donn’d at once his sable cloak. 

As warrior at the battle-cry 
Invests him with his panoply : 

Then as the whirlwintl nearer press’d, 

He ’gan to shake his foamy crest 
. O’er furrow’d brow and blacken’d cheek, 

And bade his surge in thunder speak. 

In wild and broken eddies whirl’d. 

Flitted that fond ideal world. 

And to the shore in tumult tost, 

The rcalnps of fairy bliss were lost. 

Yet, with a stern delight and strange. 

I saw the spirit-stirring change. 

As warr’dthe wind with wave and wood, 

Upon the rain’d tower I stood 

And felt my heart more strongly bound 

Responsive to the lofty sound. 


3b 


>VAVJ':ULE Y. 


While, joying in the mighty roar, 

I mourn’d that tranquil scene no more. 

So, on the idle dreams of youth, 
Breaks the loud trumpet-call of Truth, 
Rids each fair vision pass away, 

Like landscape on the lake that lay, 

As fair, as flitting, and as frail. 

As that which fled the Autumn gale— 
Forever dead to fancy’s eye 
Be each gay form that glided by. 

While dreams of love and lady’s charms 
Give place to honour and to arms ! 


In sober prose, as perhaps these verses intimate less 
tlecidedly, the transient idea of Miss Cecilia Stubbs 
passed from Captain Waverley’s heart amid the turmoil 
which his new destinies excited. She appeared indeed 
in full splendour in her father’s pew upon the Sunday 
when he attended service for the last time at the old 
parish church, upon which occasion, at the request of 
his uncle and Aunt Rachel, he was induced (nothing 
loth, if the truth must be told) to present himself in full 
uniform. 

There is no better antidote against entertaining tpo 
high an opinion of others, than having an excellent one 
of ourselves at the very same time. Miss Stubbs had 
indeed summoned up every assistance which art could 
afford to beauty ; but, alas ! hoop, patches, frizzled 
locks, and a new mantua of genuine French silk, were 
lost upon a young officer of dragoons, who wore, for the 
first time, his gold-laced hat, jack-boots, and broadsword. 
I know not whether, like the champion of an old ballad, 

His heart was all on honour bent, 

He could not stoop to love ; 

No lady in the land had power 
His frozen heart to move ; 

or whether the deep and flaming bars of embroidered 
gold, which novv fenced his breast, defied the artillery of 
Cecilia’s eyes, but every arrow was launched at him in 
vain. 


WAVE RLE Y. 


37 


Yet did I mark where Cupid’s shaft did light : 
It lighted not on little western flower, 

But on bold yeoman, flower of all the west, 
Hight Jonas Culbertfield, the steward’s son. 


Graving pardon for my heroics, (which I am unable 
in certain cases to resist giving way to,) it is a melan- 
choly fact, that my history must here take leave of the 
fair Cecilia, who, like many a daughter of Eve, after 
tlie departure of Edward, and the dissipation of certain 
idle visions which she had adopted, quietly contented 
herself with a pis-aller, and gave her hand, at the dis- 
tance of six months, to the aforesaid Jonas, son of the 
baronet’s steward, an heir (no unfertile prospect) to a 
steward’s fortune ; besides the snug probability of suc- 
ceeding to his father’s office. All these advantages 
moved squire Stubbs, as much as the ruddy brow and 
manly form of the suitor influenced his daughter, to abate 
somewhat in the article of their gentry, and so the match 
was concluded. None seemed more gratified than Aunt 
Rachel, who had hitherto looked rather askaunce upon 
the presumptuous damsel, (as much so peradventure as 
her nature would permit) but who, on the first appear- 
ance of the new-married pair at church, honoured the 
bride with a smile and a profound courtesy, in presence 
of the rector, the curate, the clerk, and the whole con- 
gregation of the united parishes of Waverley cum 
Beverly. 

I beg pardon, once and for all, of those readers who 
take up novels merely for amusement, for plaguing them 
so long with old fashioned politics, and Whig and Tory, 
and Hanoverians and Jacobites. The truth is, I cannot 
promise them that this story shall be intelligible, not to 
say probable, without it. My plan requires that I should 
explain the motives on which its action proceeded, and 
these motives necessarily arose from the feelings, preju- 
dices, and parties, of the times. I do not invite my fair 
readers, whose sex and impatience give them the great- 
est right to complain of these circumstances, into a fly- 

VOL. I. 


38 


wam:iii.ey. 


ing chariot drawn by hyppogriffs, or moved by enchant- 
ment. Mine is a humble English post-chaise, drawn 
upon four wheels, and keeping his majesty’s highway. 
Such as dislike the vehicle may leave it at the next halt, 
and wait for the conveyance of Prince Hussein’s tapestry, 
or iMalek the Weaver’s flying sentry-box. Those who 
are contented to remain with me will be occasionally 
exposed to the dulness inseparable from heavy roads, 
steep hills, sloughs, and other terrestrial retardations 5 
but, with tolerable horses, and a civil driver, (as the ad- 
vertisements have it,) I engage to get as soon as possible 
into a more picturesque and romantic country, if rn}- 
passengers incline to have some patience with me during 
my first stages.^ 


CHAPTER VI. 

The Adieus of TVaverley. 

It was upon the evening of this memorable Sunday 
that Sir Everard entered the library, where he narrow'- 
ly missed surprising our young hero as he went through 
the guards of the broad-sword with the ancient weapon 
of old Sir Hildebrand, which, being preserved as an 
heir-loom, usually hung over the chimney in the library, 
beneath a picture of the knight and his horse, where 
the features were almost entirely hidden by the knight’s 
profusion of curled hair, and the Bucephalus which he 
bestrode concealed by the voluminous robes of the Bath 
with which he was decorated. Sir Everard entered, 
and after a glance at the picture and another at his 
nephew, began a little speech, which, however, soon 
dropt into the natural simplicity of his common manner, 
agitated upon the present occasion by no common feel- 
ing. ‘‘Nephew,” he said; and then, as mending his 


WAVERLEY. 


39 


phidse, “ My dear Edward, it is God’s will, and also the 
will of your father, whom, under God, it is your duty 
to obey, tnat you should leave us to take up the profes- 
sion of arms, in which so many of your ancestors have 
been distmguished. I have made such arrangements as 
will enable you to take the field as their descendant, and 
as the p»’obabIe heir of the house of Waverley ; and, 
Sir, in the field of battle you will remember what name 
you bear. And, Edward, my dear boy, remember also 
that you are the last of that race, and the only hope of its 
revival depends upon you ; therefore, as far as duty and 
honour will permit, avoid danger — I mean unnecessary 
danger — and keep no company with rakes, gamblers, 
and whigs, of whom, it is to be feared, there are but too 
many in the service into which you are going. Your 
colonel, as 1 am inforrrted, is an excellent man — for a 
presbyterian ; but you will remember your duty to God, 

the Church of England, and the (this breach 

ought to have been supplied, according to the rubric, 
with the word king ; but as, unfortunately, that word 
conveyed a double and embarrassing sense, one meaning 
de fncto^ and the other dejure, the knight filled up the 
blank otherwise) — the church of England, and all con- 
stituted authorities.” Then, not trusting himself with 
any further oratory, he carried his nephew to his stables 
to see the horses destined for his campaign. Two 
were black, (the regimental colour) superb chargers both ; 
the other three were stout active hacks, designed for the 
road, or for his domestics, of whom two were to attend 
him from the Hall ; an additional groom, if necessary, 
might be picked up in Scotland. 

“You will depart with but a small retinue,” quoth 
the baronet, “ compared to Sir Hildebrand, when he 
mustered before the gate of the Hall a larger body of 
horse than your whole regiment consists of. I could 
have wished that these twenty young fellows from my 
estate, who have enlisted in your troop, had been to 
march with you on your journey to Scotland. It would 
have been something at least; but I am told their at- 


40 


WAVERLEY. 


tendance would be thought unusual in these days, when 
every new and foolish fashion is introduced to break the 
natural dependence of the people upon their landlords.’’ 
Sir Everard had done his best to correct this unnatural 
disposition of the times ; -for he had brightened the chain 
of attachment between the recruits and their young 
captain, not only by a copious repast of beef and ale, 
by way of parting feast, but by such a pecuniary donation 
to each individual, as tended rather to improve the con- 
viviality than the discipline of their march. After in- 
specting the cavalry. Sir Everard again conducted his 
nephew to the library, where ne produced a letter, 
carefully folded, surrounded by a little stripe of dox- 
silk, according to ancient form, and sealed with an ac- 
curate impression of the Waverley coat-of-arms. It was 
addressed, with great formality, “ To Cosmo Comyne 
Bradwardine, Esq. of Bradwardine, at his principal 
mansion of Tully-Veolanj in Perthshire, North Britain. 
These — By the hands of Captain Edward Waverley, 
nephew of Sir Everard Waverleyjof Waverley-Honour, 
Bart.” 

The gentleman to whom this enormous greeting was 
addressed, of whom we shall have more to say in the 
sequel, had been in arms for the exiled family of Stuart 
in the year 1715, and was made prisoner at Preston, 
in Lancashire. He was of a very ancient family, and 
somewhat embarrassed fortune ; a scholar, accord- 
ing to the scholarship of Scotchmen, that is, his ^earn- 
ing was more diffuse than accurate, and he was rather a 
reader than a grammarian. Of his zeal for the classic 
authors lie is said to have given an uncommon instance. 
On the road between Preston and London he made his 
escape from his guards ; but being afterwards found 
loitering near the place where they had lodged the former 
night, he was recognized and again arrested. His com 
panions, and even his escort, were surprised at his infat- 
uation, and could not help inquiring, why, being once at 
liberty, he had not made the best of his way to a place of 
safety ; to which he replied, that he bad intended to do 


WAVE RLE Y. 


41 


so, but, in good faith, he had returnee to seek liis Titus 
Livius, which he had forgot in the huny of his escape 
'The simplicity of this anecdote struck the gentleman, 
who, as we before observed, had managed the defence 
of some of those unfortunate persons, at the expense of 
Sir Everard, and perhaps some others of the party. He 
was, besides, himself a special admirer of the old Patavin- 
ian, and though probably his own zeal miglit not have 
carried him such extravagant lengths, even to recover 
the edition of Sweynheim and Pannartz, (supposed to 
be the princeps,) he did not the less estimate the devotion 
of the North Briton, and in consequence exerted himself 
to so much purpose to remove and soften evidence, detect 
legal flaws, et cetera, that he accomplished the final dis- 
charge and deliverance of Cosmo Comyne Bradvvardine 
from certain very awkward consequences of a plea before 
our sovereign lord the king in Westminster. 

The Baron of Bradwardine, for he was generally so 
called in Scotland, (although his intimates, from his place 
of residence, used to denominate him Tully-Veolan, or, 
more familiarly, Tully,) no sooner stood rectvs in curia, 
than he posted down to pay his respects and make his ac- 
knowledgements at Waverley-Honour. A congenial pas- 
sion for field-sports, and a general coincidence in political 
opinions, cemented his friendship w'ith. Sir Everard, 
notwithstanding the difference of their habits and studies 
in other particulars ; and, having spent several weeks at 
Waverley-Honour, the Baron departed with many ex- 
pressions of regard, warmly pressing the baronet to re- 
turn his visit, and partake of the diversion of grouse- 
shooting upon his moors in Perthshire next season. 
Shortly after, Mr. Bradwardine remitted from Scotland 
a sum in reimbursement of expenses incurred in the 
King’s High Court of Westminster, which, although not 
quite so formidable when reduced to the English denom- 
ination, had, in its original form of Scotch pounds, shil- 
lings, and pence, such a formidable effect upon the 
frame of Duncan Macwheeble, the laird’s confidential 


VOL. 


42 


WATEHLET. 


factor, baron-baillie, and man of resource, that he had 
a fit of the colic which lasted for five days, occasioned, he 
said, solely and utterly by becoming the unhappy instru- 
ment of conveying such a serious sum of money out of 
his native country into the hands, of the false English. 
But patriotism, as it is the fairest, so is it often the most 
suspicious mask of other feelings ; and many who knew 
Baillie Macwheeble, concluded that his professions of 
regret were not altogether disinterested, and that he would 
have grudged the moneys paid to the loons at Westmin- 
ster much less had they not come from Bradwardine es- 
tate, a fund which he considered as more particularly 
his own. But the Baillie protested he was absolutely 
iisinterested — 

Woe, woe, for Scotland, not a whit for me ! ' 

The laird was only rejoiced that his worthy friend, Sir 
Everard Waverley of Waverley-Honour, was reimburs- 
ed of the expenditure which he had outlaid on account 
of the house of Bradwardine. It concerned, he said, 
the credit of his own family and of the kingdom of Scot- 
land at large, that these disbursements should be repaid 
forthwith, and, if delayed, it would be a matter of na- 
tional reproach. Sir Everard, accustomed to treat much 
larger sums with indifference, received the remittance of 
£.294 : 13 : 6, without being aware that the payment 
was an international concern, and, indeed, would proba- 
bly have forgot the circumstance altogether, if Baillie 
Macwheeble had thought of comforting his colic by in- 
tercepting the subsidy. A yearly intercourse took place, 
of a short letter, and a hamper or a cask or two, be- 
tween Waverley-Honour and Tully-Veolan, the English 
exports consisting of mighty cheeses and mightier ale, 
pheasants, and venison, and the Scottish returns being 
vested in grouse, white hares, pickled salmon, and us- 
quebaugh. All which were meant, sent, and received, as 
pledges of constant friendship and amity betw-een two im- 
portant houses. It followed as a matter of course, that the 
heir-apparent of Waverley-Honour could not wiih pro- 


WAVERLET. 


43 


pfiety visit Scotland without being furnished with cre- 
dentials to the Baron of Bradwardine. 

When this matter was explained and settled, Mr. 
Pembroke expressed his wish to take a private and par- 
ticular leave of his dear pupil. The good man’s exhor- 
tations to Edward to preserve an unblemished life and 
morals, to hold fast the principles of the Christian re- 
ligion, and to eschew the profane company of scoffers 
and latitudinarians, too much abounding in the army, 
were not unmingled with his political prejudices. It 
had pleased Heaven, he said, to place Scotland (doubt- 
less for the sins of their ancestors in 1642) in a more 
deplorable state of darkness than even this unhappy 
kingdom of England. Here, at least, although the can- 
dlestick of the church of England had been in some 
degree removed from its place, it yet afforded a glim- 
mering light ; there was a hierarchy, though schismati- 
cal,and fallen from the principles maintained by those 
great fathers of the church, Sancroft and his brethren ; 
there was a liturgy, though wofully perverted in some of 
the principal petitions. But in Scotland it w^as utter 
darkness, and excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and per- 
secuted remnant, the pulpits were abandoned to pres- 
byterians, and, he feared, to sectaries of every descrip- 
tion. It should be his duty to fortify his dear pupil to 
resist such unhallowed and pernicious doctrines in 
church and state, as must necessarily be forced at times 
upon his unwilling ears. — Here he produced two im- 
mense folded packets, which appeared each to contain 
a whole ream of closely written manuscript. They had 
been the labour of the worthy n»n’s whole life ; and 
never were labour and zeal more absurdly wasted. He 
had at one time gone to London, with the intention of 
giving them to the wmrld, by the medium of a bookseller 
in Little Britain, well known to deal in such commodi- 
ties, and to whom he was instructed to address himself 
in a particular phrase, and with a certain sign, which, it 
seems, passed at that time current among the initiated 
Jacobites. The moment Mr. Pembroke had uttered die 

^ at 


44 


WAVER LEY. 


Shibboleth, with the appropriate gesture, the bibliopolist 
greeted him, notwithstanding every disclamation, by the 
title of Doctor, and conveying him into his back shop, 
after inspecting every possible and impossible place of 
concealment, he commenced : “ Eh, doctor ! — Well — 
all under the rose — snug — I keep no holes here even 
for a Hanoverian rat to hide in. And, what — eh ! any 
good news from our friends over the water ? — and how 
does the worthy King of France? — Or perhaps you 
are more lately from Rome ? it must be Rome will do 
it at last — the church must light its candle at the old 
lamp. — Eh — what, cautious ? 1 like you the better but 
no fear.” 

Here Mr. Pembroke with some difficulty stopped a 
torrent of interrogations, eked out with signs, nods, and 
winks ; and, having at length convinced the booksellei 
that he did him too much honour in supposing him jip 
emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his actual bus; 
ness. 

The man of books with a m-uch more composed ait 
proceeded to examine the manuscripts. The title of 
the first was, ‘‘ A Dissent from Dissenters, or the Com- 
prehension confuted ; showing the’ impossibility of any 
composition betw^een the Church and Puritans, Presby- 
terians, or Sectaries of any description ; illustrated from 
the Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, and the 
soundest controversial Divines.” To this work the 
bookseller positively demurred. “Well meant,” he 
said, “ and learned, doubtless : but the time had gone 
by. Printed on small pica it would run to eight hundred 
pages, and could never pay. Begged therefore to be 
excused — Loved and honoured the true church from 
his soul, and, had it been a sermon on the martyrdom, 
or any twelve-penny touch — why I would venture some- 
thing for the honour of the cloth — But come, let’s see 
the other. “ Right hereditary righted !” — Ay ! there’s 
some sense in this. Hum — hum — hum — pages so many, 

paper so much, letter-press Ay — Pll tell you, though, 

doctor, you must knock out some of the Latin and 


WAVE RLE Y. 


45 


Greek ; heavy, doctor, damn’d heavy — (beg your par- 
don) and if you throw in a few grains more pepper — J 
am he that never peached my author — I have published 
for Drake and Charlwood Lawton, and poor Amhurst. ^ 
Ah, Caleb ! Caleb ! Well, it was a shame to let poor 
Caleb starve, and so many fat rectors and squires among 
us. I gave him a dinner once a-week ; but. Lord love 
you, what’s once .a-week, when a man does not know 
where to go the other six days.^ — Well, but I must show 
fhe manuscript to little Tom Alibi the solicitor, who 
manages all my law affairs — must keep on the windy 
side — the mob were very uncivil the last time I mounted 
in Old Palace Yard — all whigs and roundheads every 
man of them, Williarnites and Hanover rats.” 

The next day Mr. Pembroke again called, on the 
publisher, but found Tom Alibi’s advice had determined 
him against undertaking the work. “ Not but what 1 
would go to — (What was I going to say F) to the plan- 
tations for the church with pleasure — but, dear doctor, 1 
have a wife and family ; but, to show my zeal, Pll recom- 
mend the job to my neighbour Trimrnel — he is a bach- 
elor, and leaving off business, so a voyage in a western 
barge would not inconvenience him.” But Mr. Trim- 
mel was also obdurate, and Mr. Pembroke, fortunately 
perchance for himself, was compelled to return to Waver- 
ley-Hohour with his treatise in vindication of the real 
fundamental principles of church and state safely packed 
in his saddle-bags. 

As the public were thus likely to be deprived of the 
henefit arising from his lucubrations by the selfish cow- 
ardice of the trade, Mr. Pembroke resolved to make 
two copies of these tremendous manuscripts for the use 
of his pupil. He felt that he had been indolent as a 
tutor, and, besides, his conscience checked him for 
complying with the request of Mr. Richard Waverley, 
that he would impress no sentiments upon Edward’s 
mind inconsistent with the present settlement in church 
and state. “ But now,” thought he, “ I may withoui 
breach ot my word, since lie is no longer under my 


46 


WAVERLEY. 


tuition, afford the youth the means of judging for him- 
self, and have only to dread his reproaches for so long 
concealing the light which the perusal will flash upon 
his mind.” While he thus indulged the reveries of an 
author and a politician, his darling proselyte, seeing 
nothing very inviting in the title of the tracts, and ap- 
palled by the bulk and compact lines of the manuscript 
quietly consigned them to a corner of ins travelling trunk 
Aunt Rachel’s farewell was brief and affectionate 
She only cautioned her dear Edward, whom she pro 
bably deemed somewhat susceptible, against the fascina- 
tion of Scottish beauty. She allowed that the northern 
part of the island contained some ancient families, but 
they were all whigs and presbyterians except the High- 
landers-; and respecting them she must needs say, 
there could be no great delicacy among the ladies, where 
the gentleman’s usual attire was, as she had been as- 
sured, to say the least, very singular, and not at all dec- 
orous. She concluded her farewell with a kind and 
moving benediction, and gave the young officer, as a 
pledge of her regard, a valuable diamond ring, (often 
worn by the male sex at that time,) and a purse of broad 
gold pieces, which also were more common Sixty Years 
Since than they have been of late. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A Horse- Quarter in Scotland. 

The next morning, amid varied feelings, the chief 
of which was a predominant, anxious, and even solemn 
impression, that he was now in a great measure aban- 
doned to his own guidance and direction, Edward 
Waverley departed from the Hall amid the blessings 
and tears of all the old domestics and the inhabitants of 


WAVERI^EY. 


17 


ihe village, mingled with some sly petitions for ser- 
geantcies and corporalsliips, and so forth, on the part of 
those who professed that they never ‘thoft to ha’ seen 
Jacob, and Giles, and Jonathan, go off for soldiers, save 
to attend his honour, as in duty bound.’ Edward, as In 
duty bound, extricated himself from the supplicants with 
the pledge of fewer promises than might have been 
expected from a young man so little accustomed to the 
world. After a short visit to London, he proceeded on 
horseback, then the general mode of travelling, to Edin- 
burgh, and from thence to Dundee, a seaport on the 
eastern coast of Angus-shire, where bis regiment was then 
quartered. 

He now entered upon a new world, wbero, for a time, 
all was beautiful because all was new. Colonel Gardiner, 
the commanding officer of the regiment, was himself a 
study for a romantic, and at the same time an inquisi- 
tive youth. In person he was tall, handsome, and ac- 
tive, though somewhat advanced in life. In his early 
years, he had been what is called, by manner of pallia- 
tive, a very gay young man, and strange stories were 
circulated about his sudden conversion from doubt, if 
not infidelity, to a serious and even enthusiastic turn of 
mind. It was whispered that a supernatural cornmuni-' 
cation, of a nature obvious even to the exterior senses, 
had produced this wonderful change ; and though some 
mentioned the proselyte as an enthusiast, none hinted at 
bis being a hypocrite. This singular and mystical cir- 
cumstance gave Colonel Gardiner a peculiar and sol- 
emn interest in the eyes of the young soldier.^ It may 
be easily imagined that the officers of a regiment, com- 
manded by so respectable a person, composed a society 
more sedate and orderly than a military mess alvyays 
exhibits and that Waverley escaped some temptations 
to which he might otherwise have been exposed. 

Meanwhile his riiilitary education proceeded. Al- 
ready a good horseman, he was now initiated into the arts 
of the manege, which, when carried to perfection, almost 


.18 


WAVERLEY. 


realize the fable of the Centaur, the guidance of the 
horse appearing to proceed from the rider’s mere volition, 
rather than from the use of any external and apparent 
signal of motion. He received also instructions in his 
held duty ; but 1 must own, that when his hrst ardour 
was past, his progress fell short in the latter particular 
of what he wished and expected. The duty of an of 
hcer, the most imposing of all others to the inexperi- 
enced mind, because accompanied with so much out- 
ward pomp and circumstance, is in its essence a very 
dry and abstract task, depending chiefly upon arith- 
metical combinations, requiring much attention, and a 
cool and reasoning head to bring them into action. Our 
hero was liable to flts of absence, in which his blunders 
excited some mirth, and called down some reproof. 
This circumstance impressed him with a painful sense 
of inferiority in those qualities which appeared most to 
deserve and obtain regard in his new profession. He 
asked himself in vain, why his eye could not judge of 
distance or space so well as those of his corrtpanions ; 
why his head was not always successful in disentangling 
the various partial movements necessary to execute a 
particular evolution ; and why his memory, so alert upon 
inbst occasions, did not correctly retain technical phrases, 
and minute points of etiquette or field discipline. 
VVaverley was naturally modest, and therefore did not 
fall into the egregious mistake of supposing such mi- 
nuter rujes of military duty beneath his notice, or con- 
ceiting himself to be born a general, because he made 
an indifferent subaltern. The truth was, that the vague 
and unsatisfactory course of reading -which he had pur- 
sued, working upon a temper naturally retired and ab- 
stracted, had given him that wavering and unsettled 
habit of mind which is most averse to study and rivetted 
attention. Time, in the mean while, hung heavy on his 
hands. The gentry of the neighbourhood were disaf- 
fected, and showed little hospitality to the military 
guests ; and the people of the town, chiefly engaged in 
mercantile pursuits, were not such as Waverley chose 


WAVEllLEY. 


49 


to associaie ‘with. The arrival of summer, a»d a cu- 
riosity to know something more of Scotland than he 
could see in a ride from his quarters, determined hin: 
to request leave of absence for a few weeks. He re- 
solved first to visit his uncle’s ancient friend and cor- 
respondent, with a purpose of extending or shortening 
the time of his residence according to circumstances. 
He travelled of course on horseback, and with a single 
attendant, and passed his first night at a miserable inn, 
where the landlady had neither shoes nor stockings, and 
the landlord, who called himself a gentleman, was dis- 
posed to be rude to his guest, because he had not be- 
spoke the pleasure of his society to supper.^ The next 
day, traversing an open and unenclosed country, Edward 
gradually approached the Highlands of Perthshire, 
winch at first had appeared a blue outline in the horizon, 
but now swelled into huge gigantic masses, which frown- 
ed defiance over the more level country that lay be- 
neath them. Near the bottom of this stupendous bar- 
rier, but still in the Lowland country, dwelt Cosmo 
Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine ; and, if grey- 
haired eld can be in aught believed, there had dwelt his 
ancestors, with all their heritage, since the days of the 
gracious King Duncan. 


CHAPTER VIIL 

A Scottish Manor-House Sixty Years Since. 

It was about noon when Captain Waverley entered 
the straggling village, or rather hamlet, of Tully-Veolan, 
close to which was situated the mansion of the proprietor- 
The houses seemed miserable in the extreme, especially 
to an eye accustomed to the smiling neatness of English 

VOL. I. 


50 


'SVAVEIILEY. 


nottages? They stood, without any respect for regularity, 
on each side of a straggling kind of unpaved street, 
where children, almost in a primitive state of nakedness, 
lay sprawling, as if to be crushed by the hoofs ol the 
first passing horse. Occasionally, indeed, when such a 
consummation seemed inevitable, a watchlul old gran- 
dame, with her close cap, distaff, and spindle, rushed 
like a sibyl in frenzy out of one of these miserable cells, 
dashed into the middle of the path, and snatching up her 
own charge from among the sun-burnt loiterers, saluted 
him with a sound cuft’, and transjtorted him back to his 
dungeon, the little white-headed vaj’let screaming all the 
while from the very top of his lungs a shrilly treble to the 
growling remonstrances of the enraged matron. Another 
part in this concert was sustained by the incessant yelp- 
ing of a score of idle useless curs, which followed, snarl- 
ing, barking, howling, and snapping at the horses’ heels ; 
a nuisance at that time so common in Scotland, that a 
French tourist, who, like other travellers, longed to find 
a good and rational reason for every thing he saw, has re- 
corded, as one of the memorabilia of Caledonia, that 
the state maintained in each village a relay of curs, called 
collies, whose duty it was to chase the chevaux de paste 
(too starved and exhausted to move without such a stim- 
ulus) frcm one hamlet to another, till their annoying con- 
voy drove them to the end of their stage. The evil and 
remedy (such as it is) still exist : But this is remote from 
our present purpose, and is only thrown out for consid- 
eration of the collectors under ^Ir. Dent’s dog-bill. 

As Waverley moved on, here and there an old man, 
-bent as much by toil as years, his eyes bleared with age 
and smoke, tottered to the door of his^hut, to gaze on 
the dress of the stranger and the form and motions of 
the horses, and then assembled, with his neighbours, in 
a little group at the smithy, to discuss the probabilities 
of whence the stranger came, and where lie might be 
going. Three or four village girls, returning from the 
well or brook with pitchers and pails upon their heads, 
formed more pleasing objects, and, with their thin short- 


WAVERLEY. 


51 


gowns and single petticoats, bare arms, legs, and feet, 
uncovered heads and braided hair, somewhat resembled 
Italian forms of landscape. Nor could a lover of the 
picturesque have challenged either the elegance of their 
costume, or the symmetry of their shape, although, to 
say the truth, a mere Englishman, in search of the com- 
fortahle, a word peculiar to his native tongue, might have 
wished the clothes less scanty, the feet and legs somewhat 
protected from the weather, the head and complexion 
shrouded from the sun, or perhaps might even have 
thought the whole person and dress considerably improv- 
ed, by a plentiful application of spring water, with a 
quantum sufficit of soap. The whole scene was depress- 
ing, for it argued, at the first glance, at least a stagnation 
of industry, and perhaps of intellect. Even curiosity, 
the busiest passion of the idle, seemed of a listless cast 
in the village of Tully-Veolan : the curs aforesaid alone 
showed any part of its activity ; with the villagers it w^as 
passive. They stood and gazed at the handsome young 
officer and his attendant, but without any of those quick 
motions and eager looks that indicate the earnestness 
with which those who live in monotonous ease at home, 
look out for. amusement abroad. Yet the physiognomy 
of the people, when more closely examined, was far 
from exhibiting the indifference of stupidity ; their fea- 
tures. were rough, but remarkably intelligent, grave, but 
the very reverse of stupid ; and from among the young 
women, an artist might have chosen more than one model 
whose features and form resembled’ those of Minerva. 
The children also, whose skins were burnt black, and 
whose hair was bleacjied white, by the influence of the 
sun, had a look and manner of life and interest. It 
seemed, upon the whole, as if poverty, and indolence, its 
too frequent companion, were combining to depress the 
natural genius and acquired information of a hardy, m- 
telligent, and reflecting peasantry. 

Some such thoughts crossed Waverley’s mind as he 
paced his horse slowly through the rugged and flinty 


52 


WAVEP.LEY. 


Street of Tully-Veolan, interrupted only in his meditations 
by the occasional cabrioles which his charger exhibited 
at the reiterated assaults of those canine Cossacks, the 
collies before mentioned. The village was more than 
half a mile long, the cottages being irregularly divided 
from each other by gardens, or yards, as the inhabitants 
called them, of different sizes, where (for it is Sixty 
Years Since) the now universal potato \vi\s unknown, 
but which w'ere stored wdth gigantic plants of kale or 
colewort, encircled wdth groves of nettles, and exhibited 
here and there a huge hemlock, or the national thistff, 
overshadowing a quarter of the petty inclosure. The 
broken ground on which tlie village was built had never 
been levelled, so that these inclosures presented declivities 
of every degree, here rising like terraces, there sinking 
like tan-pits. The dry-stone walls which fenced, or 
seemed to fence, (for they w'ere sorely breached) these 
hanging gardens of Tully-Veolan, wmre intersected by a 
narrow lane leading to the common field, w’here the joint 
labour of the villagers cultivated alternate ridges and 
patches of rye, oats, barley, and pease, each of such 
minute extent, that at a little distance the unprofitable 
variety of the surface resembled a tailor’s book of pat- 
. terns. In a few favoured instances, there appeared be- 
hind the cottages a miserable wigwam, compiled of 
earth, loose stones, and turf, wdiere the w^ealthy might 
perhaps shelter a starved cow or sorely galled horse. But 
almost every hut was fenced in front by a huge black 
stack of turf on one side of the door, while on the other 
the family dunghill ascended in noble emulation. 

About a bow-shot from the end of the village appeared 
the inclosures, ])roudiy denominated the parks of Tully- 
Yeolan, being certain square fields, surrounded and divid- 
ed by stone walls five feet in height. In the centre of 
the exterior barrier w'as the upper gate of the avenue, 
opening under an archway, battlemented on the top, and 
adorned with two large weather-beaten mutilated masses 
(rf up-ight stone, which, if the tradition of the hamlet could 
be trusted had once represented, at least had been once 

0 


WAVE RLE Y. 


53 


designed to represent, two rampant bears, the supporters 
of the family of Bradvvardine. This avenue was straight, 
and of moderate length, running between a double row 
of very ancient horse-chesnuts, planted alternately with 
sycamores, which rose to such huge height, and flourish- 
ed so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely overarch- 
ed the broad road beneath. Beyond these venerable 
ranks, and running parallel to them, where two high walls, 
of apparently the like antiquity, overgrown ^vith ivy, 
honeysuckle, and other climbing plants. The avenue 
seemed very little trodden, and chiefly by foot-passen- 
gers ; so that being very broad, and enjoying a constant 
shade, it was clothed with grass of a deep and rich 
verdure, excepting where a foot-path, worn by occasional 
passengers, tracked with a natural sweep the way from 
the upper to the lower gate. This nether portal, like 
the former, opened in front of a wall ornamented with 
some rude sculpture, with battlements on the top, over 
which were seen, half-hidden by the trees of the avenue, 
the high steep roofs and narrow gables of the mansion, 
with lines indented into steps, and corners decorated with 
small turrets. One of the folding leaves of the lower 
gate was open, and as the sun shone full into the court 
behind, along line of brilliant 'vas flung upon the aper- 
ture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It was one of 
those effects which a painter doves to represent, and 
mingled well with the struggling light which found its 
way between the boughs of the shady arch that vaulted 
the broad green alley. 

The solitude and repose of the wIk .s scene seemed 
almost monastic ; and Waverley, who had ^iven his 
horse to his servant on entering the first gate, walked 
slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful and cool- 
ing shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas of 
rest and seclusion excited by this confined and quiet 
scene, that he forgot the misery and dirt of the hamlet 
he had left behind him. The opening into the paved 
court-yard corresponded with the re<=’*of the scene. Th<" 
voi.. I. 


54 


WAVEI11.EY. 


house, which seemed to consist of two or three high, 
narrow, and steep-roofed buildings, projecting from each 
other at right angles, formed one side of the inclosure. 
It had been built at a period w^hen castles were no longer 
necessary, and when the Scottish architects had not yet 
acquired the art of designing a domestic residence. The 
windows were numberless, but very small ; the roof had 
some non-descript kind of projections, called bartizans, 
and displayed at each frequent angle a small turret, rather 
resembling a pepper-box than a Gothic watch-tower. 
Neither did the front indicate absolute security from 
danger. There were loop-holes for musquetry, and iron 
stanchions on the lower windows, probably to repel any 
roving band of gipsies, or resist a predatory visit from 
the caterans pf the neighbouring Highlands. Stables 
and other offices occupied another side of the square. 
The former were low vaults, with narrow slits instead 
of windows, resembling, as Edward’s groom observed, 

rather a prison for murderers and larceners, and such 
like as are tried at sizes, than a place for any Christian 
cattle.” Above these dungeon-looking stables were gran- 
aries, called girnels, and other offices, to which there 
was access by outside stairs of heavy masonry. Two 
battlemented walls, one of which faced the avenue, and 
the other divided the court from the garden, completed 
the inclosure. 

Nor was the court without its ornaments. In one 
corner w^as a tun-bellied pigeon-house, of great size and 
rotundity, resembling in figure and proportion the curious 
edifice called Arthur’s Oven, which would have turned 
the brains of all the antiquaries in England, had not the 
worthy proprietor pulled it down for the sake of mend- 
ing a neighbouring dam-dyke. This dove-cote, or col- 
umbarium, as the owner called it, w^as no small resource 
to a Scottish laird of that period, whose scanty rents were 
eked out by the contributions levied upon the farms liy 
these light foragers, and the conscriptions exacted from 
the latter for the benefit of the table. 


WAVE RLE Y. 


55 


Another corner of the court displayed a fountain, 
where a huge bear, carved in stone, predominated over 
a large stone-basin, into which he disgorged the water. 
This work of art was the wonder of the country ten 
miles round. It must not be forgotten, that all sorts of 
bears, small and large, demi or in full proportion, were 
carved over the windows, upon the ends of the gables, 
terminated the spouts, and supported the turrets, with 
the ancient family motto cut under 

each hyperborean form. The court was spacious, well 
paved, and perfectly clean, there being probably another 
entrance behind the stables for removing the litter. 
Every thing around appeared solitary, and would have 
been silent, but for the continued plashing of the foun- 
tain ; and the whole scene still maintained the monastic 
illusion which the fancy of Waverley had conjured up. 
And here we beg permission to close a chapter of still life. 


CHAPTER IX. 

More of the Manor-House and its Environs. 

After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around 
liim for a few minutes, Waverley applied himself to the 
massive knocker of the hall-door, the architrave of which 
bore the date 1594. But no answer was returned, 
though the peal resounded through a. number of apart- 
ments, and was echoed from the court-yard walls without 
the house, startling the pigeons from the venerable ro- 
tunda which they occupied, and alarming anew even the 
distant village curs, which had retired to sleep upon 
their respective dungliiils. Tired of the din which he 
created, and the unprofitable responses which it excited, 
Waverley began to think that ho had reached the castle 
of Orgoglio. as entered by the victorious Prince Arthur, 


56 


WAVE RLE Y. 


When he loudly through the house to call, 

But no man cared to answer to his cry ; 

There reign’d a solemn silence over all, 

Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seen in bower or hall. 


Filled almost with expectation of beholding some “ old, 
old man, with beard as white as snow,” whom he might 
question concerning this deserted mansion, our hero turn- 
ed to a little oaken wicket-door, well clenched with irc^n- 
nails, which opened in the court-yard wall at its angle 
with the house. It was only latched, notwithstanding its 
fortified appearance, and, when opened, admitted him 
into the garden, which presented a pleasant scene.^^ The 
southern side of the house, clothed with fruit trees, and 
having many evergreens trained upon its walls, extended 
its irregular yet venerable front, along a terrace, partly 
paved, partly gravelled, partly bordered with flowers and 
choice shrubs. This elevation descended by three sev- 
eral flights of steps, placed in its centre and at the ex- 
tremities, into what might be called the garden proper, 
and was fenced along the top by a stone parapet with a 
heavy balustrade, ornamented from space to space with 
huge grotesque figures of animals seated upon their 
haunches, among which the favourite bear was repeatedly 
introduced. Placed in the middle of the terrace, between 
a sashed-door opening from the house and the central 
flight of steps, a huge animal of the same species sup- 
ported on his head and fore-paws a sun-dial of large 
circumference, inscribed with more diagrams than Ed- 
ward’s mathematics enabled him to decipher. 

The garden, which seemed to be kept with great ac- 
curacy, abounded in fruit trees, and exhibited a profusion 
of flowers and evergreens, cut into grotesque forms. It 
was laid out in terraces, which descended rank by rank 
from the western wall to a large brpok, which "had a 
tranquil and smooth appearance, where it served as a 
boundary to the garden ; but, near the extremity, leapt 
in tumult over a strong dam, or wear-head, the cause of 
its temporary tranquillity, and there forming a cascade, 


WAVERLEY. 


57 


was overlooked by an octangular summer-house, with a 
gilded bear on the top by way of vane. After this feat, 
the brook, assuming its natural rapid and fierce character, 
escaped from the eye down a deep and wooded dell, from 
the copse of which arose a massive, but ruinous tower, 
the former habitation of the Barons of Bradwardine. 
The margin of the brook, opposite to the garden, dis- 
played a narrow meadow, or haugh, as it was called, 
which formed a small washing-green ; the bank, which 
retired behind it, was covered by ancient trees. 

The scene, though pleasing, was not quite equal to the 
gardens of Alcina ; yet wanted not the “ due donzelette 
gat'rule^’ of tliat enchanting paradise, for upon the green 
aforesaid, two bare-legged damsels, each standing in a 
spacious tub, performed with their feet the office of a 
patent washing-machine. These did not however, like 
the maidens of Armida, remain to greet with their har- 
mony the approaching guest, but alarmed at the appear- 
ance of a handsome stranger on the opposite side, drop- 
ped their garments (I should say garment, to be quite 
correct) over their limbs, which their occupation exposed 
somewhat too freely, and, with a shrill exclamation of 
“ Eh, sirs uttered with an accent between modesty 
and coquetry, sprung off like deer in different directions. 

Waverley began to despair* of gaining entrance into 
this solitary and seemingly enchanted mansion, when a 
man advanced up one of the garden alleys, where he 
still retained his station. Trusting this might be a gar- 
dener, or some domestic belonging to the house, Edward 
descended the steps in order to meet him ; but as the 
•figure approached, and long before he could descry its 
features, he was struck wdth the oddity of its appearance 
and gestures. Sometimes this mister wight held his 
hands clasped over his head, like an Indian Jogue m the 
attitude of penance ; sometimes he swung them perpen- 
dicularly, like a pendulum, on each side ; and anon ho 
slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his breast, 

• ike the substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his 
usual dogging exercise, when bis cattle are idle upon the 


58 


WAVERLEY. 


Stand, in a clear frosty day. His gait was as singular as 
his gestures, for at times he hopp’d with great persever- 
ance on the right foot, then exchanged that supporter to 
advance in the same manner on the left, and then putting 
his feet close together, he hopp’d upon both at once. 
His attire also was antiquated and extravagant. It con- 
sisted in a sort of gray jerkin, with scarlet cufl's and 
slash’d sleeves, showing a scarlet lining ; the other parts 
of the dress corresponded in colour, not forgetting a pair 
of scarlet stockings, and a scarlet bonnet, proudly sur- 
mounted with a turkey’s feather. Edward, whom be 
did not seem to observe, now perceived confirmation in 
his features of what the mien and gestures had already 
announced. It was apparently neither idiocy nor insanity 
which gave that wild, unsettled, irregular expression to a 
face which naturally was rather handsome, but something 
that resembled a compound of both, where the simplicity 
of the fool was mixed with the extravagance of a crazed 
O imagination. He sung with great earnestness, and not 
without some taste, a fragment of an old Scotch ditty : 

12 False love, and hast thou play’d me this 
In summer among the flowers 1 
I will repay thee back again 
In winter among the showers. 

Unless again, again, my love, 

Unless you turn again ; 

As you with other maidens rove, 

I ’ll smile on other men. 

Here lifting up his eyes, which bad hitherto been fixerl 
m observing bow his feet kept time to the tune, he be- 
held Waverley, and instantly dofi’d bis cap, with many 
grotesque signals of surprise, respect, and salutation 
Edward, though wdth little hope of receiving an answer 
to any constant question, requested to know whether Mr. 
Bradwardine were at home, or where he could find any 
of the domestics. The questioned party replied, and 
like the witch ol'Tlialaba, “ still his speech was song,” — > 


WAVERLEY. 


59 


The Knight's lo the mount?io 
His bugle to wind ; 

The Lady’s to greenwood 
Her garland to bind. 

The bower of Eurd Ellen 
Has moss on the floor, 

That the step of Lord William 
Be silent and sure. 

This c.)nveyed no information, and Edward, repeat- 
ing his queries, received a rapid answer, in which, from 
Ihe haste and peculiarity of the dialect, the word “ but- 
ler” was alone intelligible. Waverley then requested to 
see the butler ; upon which the fellow, with a knowing 
' look and nod of intelligence, made a signal to Edward 
to follow, and began to dance and caper down the alley 
up which he had made his approaches. — “ A strange 
guide this,” thought Edward, “ and not much unlike one 
of Shakspeare’s roynish clowns. I am not over prudent 
to trust to his pilotage ; but wiser men have been led by 
tools.” — By this time he reached the bottom of the alley, 
where, turning short on a little parterre of flowers, 
shrouded from the east and north by a close yew hedge, 
he found an old man at work without his coat, whose ap- 
pearance hovered between that of an upper servant and 
gardener ; his red nose and ruffled shirt belonging to the 
former profession ; and his hale and sun-burnt visage, 
with his green apron, appearing to indicate 

Old Adam’s likeness, set to dress this garden. 

The major domo, for such he was, and indisputably 
the second officer of state in the barony, (nay, as chief 
minister of the interior, superior even to Baillie Mac- 
wheeble, in his own department of the kitchen and cel- 
lar, )--the major domo laid down his spade, slipped on 
his coat in haste, and with a' wrathful look at Edward’s 
guide, probably excited by his having introduced a stran- 
ger while he was engaged in this laborious, and, as he 
might suppose it, degrading office, requested to know the 
gentleman’s commands. Being informed that he wished 
to pa) his respects to his master, that his name was Wa- 


()0 


WAVEIILEY. 


rerley, and so forth, the old man’s countenance assumed 
a great deal of respectful importance. ‘‘ He could take 
it upon his conscience to say, his honour would have 
exceeding pleasure in seeing him. Would not Mr. 
Waverley choose some refreshment after his journey ? 
His honour was with the folk who were getting doon the 
dark hag ; the twa gardener lads ( an emphasis on the word 
tiva) had been ordered to attend him ; and he had been 
just amusing himself in the mean time with dressing Miss 
Rose’s flower-bed, that he might be near to receive his 
honour’s orders, if need were : he was very fond of a 
garden, but had little time for such divertisements.” 

“ He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the 
week, at no rate whatever,” said Edward’s fantastic 
conductor. 

A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, 
and he commanded him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, 
in a tone which admitted no discussion, to look for his 
honour at the dark hag, and tell him there was a gentle- 
man from the south had arrived at the Ha’. 

“ Can this poor fellow deliver a letter ?” asked Edward. 

With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects. 
I would hardly trust him with a long message by word 
of mouth — though he is more knave than fool.” 

Waverley delivered his credentials to Mr. Gellatley, 
who seemed to confirm the butler’s last observation, by 
twisting his features at him, when he was looking another 
way, into the resemblance of the grotesque face on the 
bole of a German tobacco-pipe ; after which, with an 
odd conge to Waverley, he danced off to discharge his 
errand. 

“ He is an innocent, sir,” said the butler ; “ there is 
one such in almost every town in the country, but ours is 
brought far ben. He used to work a day’s turn weel 
eneugh ; but he help’d Miss Rose when she was flemit 
with the laird of Killancureit’s new English bull, and 
since that time we ca’ him Davie Do-little ; indeed w^e 
might ca’ him Davie Do-naething, for since he got that 
gay clothing, to please his honour and mv young mistress. 


WAVERLEY. 


Cl 


(great folks will have their fancies,) he has done naething 
but dance up and down about the toun^ without doing a 
single turn, unless trimming the laird’s fishing-wand or 
busking his flies, or may be catching a dish of trouts at 
any orra-time. But here comes Miss Rose, who, I take 
burden upon me for her, will be especial glad to see one 
of the house of Waverley at her father’s mansion of 
Tully-Veolan.” 

But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unwor- 
thy historian, than to be introduced at the end of a chapter. 

In the meanwhile it may be noticed, that Waverley 
learned two things from this colloquy ; that in Scotland 
a single house was called a toivn and a natural fool an 
innocent 


CHAPTER X. 

Rose Bradwardine and her Father. 

Miss Bradwardine was but seventeen ; yet, at the 

last races of the county town of , upon her health 

being proposed among a round of beauties, the Laird of 
Bumperquaigh, permanent toast-master and croupier of 
the Bautherwhillery Club, not only said More to the 
pledge in a pint bumper of Bordeaux, but, ere pouring 
forth the libation, denominated the divinity to whom it 
was dedicated, the “ Rose of Tully-Veolan upon 
which festive occasion, three cheers were given by all 
the sittmg members of that respectable society, whose 
throats the wine had left capable of such exertion. Nay, 
I am well assured, that the sleeping partners of the com- 
pany snorted applause, and that although strong bumpers 
and weak brains had consigned two or three to the floor, 
yet even these, fallen as they were from their high estate, 
and weltering — I will carry the parody no farther — utter- 

VOL. I. 


G2 


WAVElll^EY. 


ed divers inarticulate sounds, intimating their assent to 
the motion. 

Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but 
by acknowledged merit 5 and Rose Bradwardine not 
only deserved it, but also the approbation of much more 
rational persons than the Bautherwhillery Club could 
have mustered, even before discussion of the first mag- 
num. She was indeed a very pretty girl of the Scotch 
cast of beauty, that is, with a profusion of hair of paley 
gold, and a skin like the snow of her own mountains in 
whiteness. Yet she had not a pallid or pensive cast of 
countenance ; her features, as well as her temper, had a 
lively expression ; her complexion, though not florid, 
was so pure as to seem transparent, and the slightest 
emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face and 
neck. Her form, though under the common size, was 
remarkably elegant, and her motions light, easy, and un- 
embarrassed. She came from another part of the gar- 
den to receive Captain Waverley, with a manner that 
hovered between bashfulness and courtesy. 

The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that 
the dark hag, which had somewhat puzzled him in the 
butler’s account of his master’s avocations, had nothing 
to do either with a black cat or a broomstick, but was 
simply a portion of oak copse which was to be felled that 
day. She offered, with diffident civility, to show 
the stranger the way to the spot, which, it seems, was not 
far distant ; but they were prevented by the appearance 
of the Baron of Bradwardine in person, who, summoned 
by David Gellatley, now appeared, “on hospitable'thoughts 
intent,” clearing the ground at a prodigious rate with 
swift and long strides, which reminded Waverley of the 
seven-league boots of the nursery fable. He was a tall, 
thin, athletic figure, old indeed and gray-haired, but with 
every muscle rendered as tough as whip-cord by constant 
exercise. He was dressed carelessly, and more like a 
Frenchman than an Englishman of the period, while, 
from his hard features and perpendicular rigidity of stat- 
ure, he bore some resemblance to a Swiss officer of the 


WAVE RLE T. 


63 


guards, who had resided some time at Paris, and caught 
the costume^ but not the ease or manner, of its inhabi- 
tants. The truth was, that his language and habits were 
as heterogeneous as his external appearance. 

Owing to his natural disposition to study, or perhaps 
to a very general Scottish fashion of giving young men 
of rank a legal education, he had been bred with a view 
to the bar. But the politics of his family precluding the 
hope of his rising in that profession, Mr. Bradwardine 
travelled with high reputation for several years, and 
made some campaigns in foreign service. After his de- 
melee. with the law of high treason in 1715, he had lived 
in retirement, conversing almost entirely with those of 
his own principles in the vicinage. The pedantry of the 
lawyer, superinduced upon the military pride of the sol- 
dier, might remind a modern of the days of the zealous 
volunteer service, when the bar-gown of our pleaders 
was often flung over a blazing uniform. To this must 
be added the prejudices of ancient birth and Jacobite 
politics, greatly strengthened by habits .of solitary and 
secluded authority, which, though exercised only within 
the bounds of his half-cultivated estate, was there indis- 
putable and undisputed. For, as he used to observe, 
‘‘ the lands of Bradwardine, Tully-Veolan, and others, 
had been erected into a free barony by a charter from 
David the First, cum liberali potest, hahendi curias et 
justicias, cum fossa et furca (lie pit and gallows) et 
saka et soka, et tJiol et theam, et infang-thief et outfang- 
thief sive hchid-kahend. sive bak-harand.''^ The peculiar 
meaning of all these cabalistical words few or none could 
explain ; but they implied, upon the whole, that the 
Baron of Bradwardine might, in case of delinquency, im- 
prison, try, and execute his vassals at his pleasure. Like 
James the First, however, the present possessor of this 
authority was more pleased in talking about prerogative 
than, in exercising it ; and excepting that he impr.soned 
two poachers in the dungeon of the old tower of Tully- 
VTolan, where they were sorely frightened by ghosts, and 


64 


AVAVERIiEY. 


almost eaten by rats, and that he set an old woman in 
the jougSj (or Scottish pillory) for saying “ there were 
mair fules in the laird’s ha’ house than Davie Gellalley,” 
I do not learn that he was accused of abusing his high 
powers. Still, however, the conscious pride of possess- 
ing them gave additional importance to his language and 
deportment. 

At his first address to Waverley, it would seem that 
the hearty pleasure he felt to behold the nephew of his 
friend had somewhat discomposed the stiff and upright 
dignity of the Baron of Bradwardine’s demeanour, for 
the tears stood in the old gentleman’s eyes, when, hav- 
ing first shaken Edward heartily by the hand in the 
English fashion, he embraced him a-la-mode Frangoise, 
and kissed him on both sides of his face ; while the 
hardness of his gripe, and the quantity of Scotch snuff 
which his accolade communicated, called corresponding 
drops of moisture to the eyes of his guest. 

“ Upon the honour of a gentleman,” he said, “ but it 
makes me young again to see you here, Mr. Waverley ! A 
worthy scion of the old stock of Waverley-Honour — spes 
altera, as Maro hath it — and you have the look of the old 
line. Captain Waverley ; not so portly yet as my old friend 
Sir Everard — mais cela viendra avec le terns, as my 
Dutch acquaintance, Baron Kikkitbroeck, said of the 
sagesse of Madame son epouse. — And so ye have 
mounted the cockade ? Right, right ; though I could 
have wished the colour different, and so I would ha’ 
deemed might Sir Everard. But no mord of that ; J 
am old, and times are changed. — And how does the 
worthy knight baronet, and the fair Mrs. Rachel ? — 
Ah, ye laugh, young man! In troth she was the fair Mrs 
Rachel in the year of grace seventeen hundred and 
sixteen ; but time passes — et singula pmdantur anni — 
that is most certain. But once again, ye are most 
heartily welcome to my poor house of Tully-Veolnn ! 
— Hie to the house. Rose, and see that Alexandei 
Saunderson looks out the old Chateau Margoux, wliich 
1 sent from Bourdeaux to Dundee in ihe year ITid-” 


AVAVERLEY. 


65 


Rose tripped off demurely enough till she turned the 
first corner, and then ran with the speed of a fairy, that 
she might gain leisure, after discharging her father’s 
commission, to put her own dress in order, and pfod;:.ce 
all her little finery, an occupation for which the ap- 
proaching dinner-hour left but limited time. 

•‘We cannot rival the luxuries of your English table, 
(/aptain Waverley,or give you the epulce lautiores of Wa^ 
v'erley- Honour — I say epulcB rather than be- 

cause the latter phrase is popular ; Epulcs ad senatvm, 
prandium vero ad populum aitinet, says Suetonius Tran- 
quillus. But*I trust ye will applaud my Bourdeaux ; c^esi 
des doux oreilles, as Captain Vinsauf used to say — Vinuw 
primce notce^ the Principal of St. Andrews denominated it. 
And, once more. Captain Waverley, right glad am 1 
that ye are here to drink the best my cellar can make 
forthcoming.” 

This speech, with the necessary interjectional an- 
swers, continued from the lower alley *where they 
met, up to the door of the house, where four or five 
servants in old-fashioned liveries, headed by Alexander 
Saunderson the butler, who now bore no token of the 
sable stains of the garden, received them in grand 
costume, 

In an old hall hung' round with pikes and with bows, 

With old bucklers and corslets that had borne many shrewd blows. 

With much ceremony, and still more real kindness, 
the Baron, without stopping in any intermediate apart- 
ment, conducted his guest through several into the great 
dining parlour, wainscotted with black oak, and hung 
round with the pictures of his ancestry, where a table 
was set forth in form for six persons, and an old-fashion- 
ed beaufet displayed all the ancient and massive plate 
of the Bradwardine family. A bell was now heard at 
the head of the avenue ; for an old man, who acted as 
porter upon gala days, had caught the alarm given by 
Waverley’s arrival, and, repairing to his post, announced 
the arrival of other guests. 

VOL. I. 


66 


WAVERLEY. 


These, as the Baron assured his young friend, were 
very estimable persons. “ There was the young Laird 
of Balmawhapple, a Falconer by surname, of ih^ house 
of Glenfarquhar, given right much to field-sports — 
gaudet equis et canibus — but a very discreet young gen- 
tleman. Then there was the Laird of Killancureit, who 
had devoted his leisure until tillage and agriculture, and 
boasted himself to be possessed of a bull of matchless mer- 
it, brought from the county of Devon (the Darnnonia 
of the Romans, if we can trust Robert of Cirencester.) 
He is, as ye may well suppose from such a tendency, 
but of yeoman extraction — servabit odorem testa diu — 
and I believe, between ourselves, his grandsire was from 
the wrong side of the Border — one Bullsegg, who came 
hither as a steward, or bailiff', or ground-officer, or some- 
thing in that department, to the last Girnigo of Killan- 
cureit, who died of an atrophy. After his master’s 
death, sir, — ye would hardly believe such a scandal, — but 
this Bullsegg, being portly and comely of aspect, inter- 
married with the lady dowager, w’ho w'as young and 
amorous, and possessed himself of the estate, which 
devolved on this unhappy woman by a settlement of her 
um while husband, in direct contravention of an unre- 
corded taillie, and to the prejudice of the disponer’s own 
flesh and blood, in the person of his natural heir and 
seventh cousin, Girnigo of Tipperhewit, whose family 
was so reduced by the ensuing law-suit, that his repre- 
sentative is now serving as a private gentleman-sentinel 
in the Highland Black Watch. But this gentleman, Mr 
Bullsegg of Killancureit that now is, has good blood in 
his veins by the mother and grandmother, who were 
both of the family of Pickletillim, and he is w^ell liked 
and looked upon, and knows his own })lace. And God 
forbid. Captain Waverley, that we of irreproachable 
lineage should exult over him, when it may be, that in 
the eighth, ninth, or tenth generation, his progeny may 
rank in a manner, with the old gentry of the country. 
Rank and ancestry, sir, should be the last words in 
the mouths of us of unblemished race — vix ea nostra 


WAVE RLE Y. 


67 


vocOj as Naso salth. — There is, besides, a clergyman of 
the true (though suffering,) episcopal church of Scotland. 
He was a confessor in her cause after the year 1715, 
when a whiggish mob destroyed his meeting-house, tore 
his surplice, and plundered his dwelling-house of four 
silver spoons, intromitting also with his mart and his 
meal-ark, and with two barrels, one of single, and one 
of double ale, besides three bottles of brandy. My 
Baron-Baiilie and doer, Mr. Duncan JMacwheeble, is the 
fourth on our list. There is a question, owing to the incer- 
titude of ancient orthography, whether he belongs to 
the clan of Wheedle or of Quibble, but both have pro- 
duced persons eminent in the law.’* — 

As such he described them by pei-son and name, 

Tliey enter’d, and dinner was served as they came. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The Banquet, 

The entertainment was ample, and handsome accord- 
ing to the Scotch ideas of the period, and the guests did 
great honour to it. Tlie Baron eat like a famished sol- 
dier, the Laird of Balmawdiapple like a sportsman, Bulls- 
egg of Killancureit like a farmer, Waverley himself like 
a traveller, and Baillie Macwheeble like all four to- 
gether; though, either out of more respect, or in order 
to preserve that proper declination of person whieh 
showed a sense that he was in the presence of his 
patron, he sat upon the edge of his chair,, placed at 
three feet distance from the table, and achieved a com- 
munication with his plate by projecting his person to- 
wards it in a line which obliqued from the bottom of his 
spine, so that the person who sat opposite to him could 
only see the foretop of his riding periwig. 


68 


WAVERliET. 


This stooping position might have been jnconvenienl 
to another person ; but long habit made it, whether 
seated or walking, perfectly easy to the w^orthy Baillie. 
In the latter posture, it occasioned, no doubt, an un- 
seemly projection of the person towards those who hap- 
pened to walk behind ; but those being at all times his 
inferiors, (for Mr. Macwheeble was very scrupulous in 
giving place to all others,) he cared very little what in- 
ference of contem.pt or slight regard they might derive 
from the circumstance. Hence, when he waddled across 
the court to and from his old grey pony, he some- 
what resembled a turnspit walking upon its liind legs. 

The nonjuring clergyman was a })ensive and interest- 
ing old man, with much the air of a sufferer for con- 
science sake. He was one of those, 

VV’^ho, uirdcprived, their benefice forsook. 

For this whim, when the Baron was out of -hearing, the 
Baillie used sometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, up- 
braiding him with the nicely of his scruples. Indeed, 
it must be owned, that he himself, though at heart a 
keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept pretty fair 
w'ith all the different turns of state in his time ; so that 
Davie Gellatley once described him as a particularly good 
man, who had a very quiet and peaceful conscience, 
that never did him any harm. 

When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced 
the health of the king, politely leaving to the consciences 
of his guests to drink to the sovereign de facto or de 
jure, as their politics inclined. The conversation now 
became general ; and, shortly afterwards. Miss Brad- 
wardine, who had done the honours with natural grace 
and simplicity, retired, and was soon followed by the 
clergyman. Among the rest of the party, the wine, 
which fully justified the encomiums of the landlord, 
flowed freely round, although Waverley, with some dif- 
ficulty obtained the privilege of sometimes neglecting 


'NVAVERLEY. 


69 


the glass. At length, as the evening grew r.iore late, 
the Baron made a private signal to Mr. Saunders Saun^ 
derson, or, as he facetiously denominated him, Alexan- 
der ab Alexandra^ who left the room with a nod, and 
soon after returned, his grave countenance mantling with 
a solemn and mysterious smile, and placed before his 
master a small oaken casket, mounted with brass orna- 
ments of curious foym. The Baron, drawing out a pri- 
vate key. unlocked the casket, raised the lid, and pro- 
auced a golden goblet of a singular and antique appear- 
ance, moulded into the shape of a rampant bear, which 
the owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, 
pride, and delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverley 
of Ben Jonson’s Tom Otter, with his Bull, Horse, and 
P°?> as that wag wittily denominated his chief carous- 
ing cups. But Mr. Bradwardine, turning towards him 
with complacency, requested him to observe this curious 
relique of the olden time. 

“ It represents,” he said, “ the chosen crest of our 
family, a bear, as ye observe, and rampant ; because a 
good herald will depict every animal in its noblest pos- 
ture; as a horse salient, a greyhound currant, and, as may 
be inferred, a ravenous animal in actu Jerociori, or in a 
voracious, lacerating, and devouring posture. Now, sir, 
we hold this most honourable achievement by the wap- 
pen-brief, or concession of arms of Frederick Red-beard, 
Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, Godmund 
IJradwardine, it being the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom 
lie slow in the lists in the Holy Land, on a quarrel touch- 
ing the chastity of the emperor’s spouse or daughter, tra- 
dition saith not precisely which ; and thus, as Virgilius 
hath it — 

Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis 

Aptemus. 

Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought 
by the command of Saint Duthac, Abbot of Aberbro- 
thock, for behoof of another baron of the house of Brad- 
wardine, who had valiantly defended the patrimony of 
that monastery against certain encroaching nobles, tl 


70 


WAVERLEY. 


is properly termed the Blessed Bear of Bradvvardine, 
(though old Dr. Doubleit used jocosely to call it Ursa 
Major,) and was supposed, in old and catholic times 
to be invested with certain properties of a mystical and 
supernatural quality. And though I give not in to such 
anilia, it is certain it has always been esteemed a solr 
emn standard cup and heirloom of our house ; nor is it 
ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such 
I hold to be the arrival of the heir of Sir Everard un- 
der my roof; and I devote this draught to the health 
and prosperity of the ancient and highly-to-be-honoured 
house of Waverley.” 

During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a 
cobwebbed bottle of claret into the goblet, which held 
nearly an English pint ; and, at the conclusion, deliver- 
ing the bottle to the butler, to be held carefully in llie 
same angle with the horizon, he devoutly quaffed off 
the contents of the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine. 

Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal mak- 
ing his rounds, and thought with great anxiety upon the ap- 
propriate motto, “ Beware the Bear but, at the same 
time, plainly foresaw, that, as none of the guests scrupled 
to do him this extraordinary honour, a refusal on his part 
to pledge their courtesy would be extremely ill received. 
Resolving, therefore, to submit to this last piece of tyranny, 
and then to quit the table, if possible, and confiding in 
the strength of his constitution, he did justice to the 
company in the contents of the Blessed Bear, and felt 
less inconvenience from the draught than he could pos- 
sibly have expected. The others, whose time had been 
more actively employed, began to show symptoms of in- 
novation, — “ the good wine did its good office. T jjc 
frost of etiquette, and pride of birth, began to give way 
Defore the genial blessings of this benign constellation, 
and the formal appellatives with which the three dignita- 
ries had hitherto addressed each other, were now fa- 
miliarly abbreviated into Tully, Bally, and Killie. When 
a few rounds had passed, the two latter, after whisper- 
ing 4ogcXher, craved. permission (a joyful hearing for Ed- 


WAVERLEY. 


71 


ward) to ask the grace cup. This, after some delay 
was at length produced, and Waverley concluded the 
orgies of Bacchus were terminated for the evening 
He was never more mistaken in his life. 

As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or 
change-house, as it was called, of the village, the Baron 
could not, in politeness, avoid walking with them up the 
avenue, and Waverley, from the same motive, and to en* 
joy, after this feverish revel, the cool summer evening 
attended the party. But when they arrived at Luckie 
Macleary’s the Lairds of Balrnawhapple and Killancureit 
declared their determination to acknowledge their sense of 
the hospitality of Tully-Veolan, by partaking, with their 
entertainer and his guest Captain Waverley, what they 
technically called deoch an doruis, a stirrup-cup, to the 
honour of the Baron’s roof-tree.^^ 

It must be noticed, that the Baillie, knowing by expe- 
rience that the day’s joviality, which had been hitherto 
sustained at the expense of his patron, might terminate 
partly at his own, had mounted his spavined grey pony, 
and, between gaiety of heart, and alarm for being 
hooked into a reckoning, spurred him into a hobbling 
canter, (a trot was out of the question,) and had al- 
ready cleared the village. The others entered the 
change-house, leading Edward in unresisting submis- 
sion ; for his landlord whispered him, that to demur to 
such an overture would be construed into a high mis- 
demeanour against the leges conviviales, or regulations 
of genial compotation. Widow Macleary seemed to 
have expected this visit, as well she might, for it was the 
usual consummation of merry bouts, not only at Tully- 
Veolan, but at most other gentlemen’s houses in Scot- 
land, Sixty Years Since. The guests thereby at once 
acquitted themselves of their burden of gratitude for 
their entertainer’s kindness, encouraged the trade of 
his change-house, did honour to the place which af- 
forded harbour to their horses, and indemnified them- 
selves for the prevdous restraints imposed by private 


72 


WAVE RLE Y. 


hospitality, by spending what Falstaff calls the su'eet of 
the night, in the genial license of a tavern. 

Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguish- 
ed guests, Luckie Macleary had swept her house foi 
the first time this fortnight, tempered her turf-fire to 
such a heat as the season required in her damp hovel 
even at midsummer, set forth her deal table newdy wash- 
ed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf, ar- 
ranged four or five stools of huge and clumsy form 
upon the sites which best suited the inequalities of her 
clay floor ; and having, moreover, put on her clean toy, 
rokelay, and scarlet plaid, gravely awaited the arrival of 
(he company, in full hope of custom and profit. When 
they were seated under the sooty rafters of Luckie Mac- 
leary’s only apartment, thickly tapestried with cobwebs, 
their hostess, who had already taken her cue from the 
Laird of Balmawhapple, appeared with a huge pewter 
measuring-pot, containing at least three English quarts, 
familiarly denominated a Tappit Hen, and which, in the 
language of the hostess, reamed (z. e. mantled) with 
excellent claret just drawn from the cask. 

It w’as soon plain that what crumbs of reason the 
Bear had not devoured, were to be picked up by the 
Hen ; butthe confusion which appeared to prevail favoured 
Edward’s resolution to evade the gaily circling glass. 
The others began to talk thick and at once, each perform- 
ing his own part in the conversation, without the least 
respect to his neighbour. The Baron of Bradwardine 
sung French chansons-a-boire, and spouted pieces of 
Latin ; Killancureit talked, in a steady unalterable dull 
key, of top-dressing and bottom-dressing,'^ and year- 
\)lds, and gimmers, and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, 
and kyloes, and a proposed turnpike-act ; while Balma- 
whapple, in notes exalted above both, extolled his horse, 
his hawks, and a greyhound called Wliistler. In the 
middle of this din, the Baron repeatedly implored si- 
lence ; and when at length the instinct of polite disci- 
pline so far prevailed, that for a moment he obtained it 
he hastened to beseech their attention “ unto a military 


WAVr.IlLKY. 


72 


uriette, which was a particular favourite of the Mare- 
chal Due cle Berwick then, imitating, as well as he 
coukl, tha manner and tone of a French musquetaire, 
iminediately commenced, — 


Mon coeur volage, dit elle, 

N’est pas pour vous gaicon, 

Esl pour un homme de guerre, 

Q,ui a barbe au menton. 

Lon, Lon, Laridon. 

' Qui port chapeau a plume, 

Soulier a rouge* talon, 

Qui joue de la (lute, 

Aussi de violon. 

Lon, Lon, Laridon. 

Balmavvhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with 

what he called a d d good song, com[)osed by Gib- 

by Gaethroughwi’t, the piper of Cupar; and without 
wasting more time, struck up, — 

It's up Glenbarchan's braes T gaed, 

And o’er the bent of Killiebraid, 

And niony a weary cast I made, 

To cuittle the moor-fowl’s tail.18 


The Baron, whose v^oice was drowned in the louder 
and more obstreperous strains of Balmawhapple, now 
dropped the competition, but continued to hum Lon, 
Lon, Laridon, and to regard the successful candidate 
for the attention of the company with an eye of disdaiti- 
wiiile Balmawhapple proceeded, — 


If up a Iwnny black-cock should spring, 

To whistle iiiin down wi' a slug in his wing, 

Aryl strap him on to my lunzie sirhtg, 
lligiu seidoiu would I fail. 

After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second 
verse, he sung the first over again ; and, in prosecution 

VOL. I. 


74 


WAVERXEY. 


of his triumph, declared there was “ more sense in that 
than in all the derry-dongs of France, and Fifeshire to 
the boot of it.” The Baron only answered whh a long 
pinch of snuff, and a glance of infinite contempt. But 
those noble allies, the Bear and the Hen, had emanci- 
pated the young laird from the habitual reverence in 
which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pro- 
nounced the claret skilpit, and demanded brandy with 
great vociferation. It was brought ; and now the Demon 
of Politics envied even the harmony arising from this 
Dutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful 
note in the strange compound of sounds which it pro- 
duced. Inspired by her, the Jjaird of Balmawhapple, 
now superior to the nods and winks with which the 
Baron of Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had 
hitherto checked his entering upon political discussion, 
demanded a bumper with the lungs of a Stentor, “ to 
the little gentleman in black velvet who did such ser- 
vice in 1702, and may the white horse break his neck 
over a mound of his making !” 

Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough 
to remember that King William’s fall, which occasioned 
his death, was said to be owing to his ho]‘se stumbling 
at a mole-hill; yet lelt inclined to take umbrage at a 
toast, which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple’s 
eye, to have a peculiar and uncivil reference to the 
government which he served. But, ere he could inter- 
fere, the Baron of Bradwardine had taken up the quarrel. 
“ Sir, he said, whatever my sentiments, tanr/unm privatus^ 
may be in such matters, i shall not tamely endure your 
saying any thing that may impinge upon the honourable 
feelings of a gentleman under niy roof. Sir, if you 
have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not re- 
spect the military oath, the sacrameniiim miUtare^ by 
which every officer is bound to the standards under 
which he is enrolled Look at Titus Livius, what he 
says of those Roman soldiers who were so unhappy as 
eoFuere sacra?nentiim^ — to renounce their legionary oath ; 


WAVERLEY. 


75 


but you are ignorant, sir, alike of ancient history and mod- 
ern courtesy.” 

“ Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me,” roar- 
ed Balmawhapple. “ 1 ken vveel that you mean the 
Solemn League and Covenant ; but if a’ the whi'gs in 
hell had taken the ” 

Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, 
the former calling out, “ Be silent, sir ! ye not only 
show your ignorance, but disgrace your native country 
before a stranger and an Englishman and Waverley, 
at the same moment, entreating Mr. Bradwardine to per- 
mit him to reply to an affront which seemed levelled at 
him personally. But the Baron was exalted by wine, 
wrath, and scorn, above ail sublunary considerations. 

“ 1 crave you to be hushed. Captain Waverley ; you 
are elsewhere, perad venture, sui juris ^ — foris-familiated, 
that is, and entitled, it may be, to think and resent for 
yourself ; but in my domain, in this poor Barony of 
Bradwardine, and under this roof, which is quasi mine, 
being held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I am in 
loco parentis to you, and bound to see you scathless. — 
And for you, Mr. Falconer, of Balmawhapple, I warn 
ye let me see no more aberrations from the paths of 
good manners.” 

And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of 
Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan,” retorted the sportsman, 
in huge disdain, “ that I’ll make a moor-cock of the 
man that refuses my toast, whether it be a crop-eared 
English Whig wi’ a black ribband at his lug, or ane wha 
deserts his ain friends to claw favour wi’ the rats of 
Hanover.” 

In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some 
desperate passes exchanged. Balmawhapple was young, 
stout, -and active; but the Baron, infinitely more master 
of his weapon, would, like Sir Toby Belch, have tickled 
his opponent other gates than he did, had he not been 
under the influence of Ursa Major. 

Edward rushed forward to interfere between the com- 
batants, hut the prostrate bulk of the Laird of Killan- 


76 


WAVERLET. 


cureit, over which he stumbled, intercepted his passage. 
How Killancureit happened to be in this recumbent pos- 
ture at so interesting a momeit, w’as never accurately 
known. Some thought he was about to ensconce him- 
self under the table ; he himself alleged that he stum- 
bled in the act of lifting a joint-stool, to prevent mischief, 
by knocking down Balmawhapple. Be that as it may, 
if readier aid than either his or Waverley’s had not in- 
terposed, there would certainly have been bloodshed. 
Bivt the well-known clash of swords, which was no 
stranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie Macleary as 
she sat quietly beyond the hallan, or earthen partition of 
the cottage, with eyes employed on Boston’s Crook of 
the Lot, while her ideas were engaged in summing up 
the reckoning. She boldly rushed in, with the shrill 
expostulation, “ Wad their honours slay ane another 
there, and bring discredit on an honest wddow-w’o man’s 
house, when there was a’ the lea-land in the country to 
fight upon ?” a remonstrance which she seconded by 
flinging her plaid with great dexterity over the w^eapons 
of the combatants. The servants by this time rushed 
in, and being, by great chance, tolerably sober, separated 
the incensed opponents, with the assistance of Edward 
and Killancureit. The latter led off Balmawhapple, 
cursing, swearing, and vowdng revenge against every 
whig, presbyterian, and fanatic in England and Scotland, 
from John-o’-Groat’s to the Land’s End, and with diffi- 
culty got him to horse. Our hero, with the assistance of 
Saunders Saunderson. escorted the Baron of Bradwar- 
dine to his own dwelling, but could not prevail upon him 
to retire to bed until ne had made a long and learned 
apology for the events of the evening, of which, how- 
ever, there w^as not a word intelligible, except something 
about the Centaurs and the Lapithae. 


WAVERLEY. 


77 


CHAPTER XIL 
Repentance^ and a Reconciliation » 

Waverley was unaccustomed to the use of vVine, 
excepting with great temperance. He slept therefore 
soundly till late in the succeeding morning, and then 
awakened to a painful recollection of the scene of the 
preceding evening. He had received a personal affront, 
— he, a gentleman, a soldier, and a Waverley. True, 
the person who offered it was not, at the time it was 
given, possessed of the moderate share of sense which 
nature had allotted him ; true also, in resenting this insult, 
he would break the laws of Heaven, as well as of his 
country ; true, in doing so, he might take the life of r 
young man who perhaps respectably discharged the social 
duties, and render his family miserable ; or he might 
lose his own ; — no pleasant alternative even to the brav- 
est, when it is debated coolly and in private. 

All this pressed on his mind ; yet the original state- 
ment recurred with the same irresistible force. He had 
received a personal insult ; he was of the house of Wa- 
verley ; and he bore a commission. There was no al- 
ternative ; and he descended to the breakfast parlour 
with the intention of taking leave of the family, and 
writing to one of his brother officers to meet him at the 
inn mid-way between Tully-Veolan and the town where 
they were quartered, in order that he might convey such 
a message to the Laird of Balmawhapple as the circumr 
stances seemed to demand. He found Miss Bradwardine 
presiding over the tea and coffee, the table loaded with 
warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and bafleymeal, in the 
shape of loaves, cakes, b'seuits, and other varieties, together 
with eggs, reindeer ham mutton and beefditto, smoked sal 

VOL. I. . 


78 


WAVKIILEY. 


mon, marmalade, and all the other delicacies which in- 
duced even Johnson himself to extol the luxury of a 
Scotch breakfast above that of all other countries. A 
mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked by a silver jug, which 
\ield an equal mixture of cream and butter-milk, was 
placed for the Baron’s share of this repast ; but Rose 
observed he had walked out early in the morning, after 
giving orders that his guest should not be disturbed 

Waverley sat down almost in silence, and with an air 
of absence and abstraction, which could not give JMiss 
Bradwardine a favourable opinion of his talents for con- 
versation. He answered at random one or two observa- 
tions which she ventured to make upon ordinary topics ; 
so that feeling herself almost repulsed in her efforts at 
entertaining him, and secretly wondering that a scarlet 
coat should cover no better breeding, she left him to his 
mental amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit’s favourite 
constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mis- 
chief which had already happened, and was likely to en- 
sue. At once he started, and his colour heightened, as, 
.ooking toward the window, he beheld the Baron and 
j^oung Balmawhapple pass arm in arm, apparently in deep 
conversation ; and he hastily asked, “Did Mr. Falconer 
sleep here last night Rose, not much pleased with the 
abruptness of the first question which the young stranger 
had addressed to her, answered dryly in the negative, 
and the conversation again sunk into silence. 

At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared, with a mes- 
sage from his master, requesting to speak with Captain 
Waverley in another apartment. With a heart which 
beat a little quicker, not indeed from fear, but from un- 
certainty and anxiety, Edward obeyed the summons. 
He found the two gentlemen standing together, an air of 
complacent dignity on the brow of the Baron, while some- 
thing like sullenness or shame, or both, blanked the bold 
visage of Balmawhapple. The former slipped liis arm 
through that of the latter, and thus seeming to walk with 
him, while in reality he led him, advanced to meet Wa- 
verley, and, stopping in the midst of llie apartment, madt 


WAVE RLE Y. 


79 


in great state the following oration : “ Captain Waverley 
— my young and esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer of Bal- 
mawhapple, has craved of my age and experience, as of 
one not wholly unskilled in the dependencies and punc- 
tilios of the duello or monomachia, to be his interlocutor 
in expressing to you the regret with which he calls to 
remembrance certain passages of our symposion last 
night, which could not but be highly displeasing to you, 
as serving for the time under this present existing gov- 
ernment. He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion the 
memory of such solecisms against the laws of politeness, 
as being what his better reason disavows, and to receive 
the hand which he offers you in amity ; and I must needs 
assure you that nothing less than a sense of being dans 
son iort, as a gallant French chevalier, Mons. Le Bre- 
tailleur, once said to me on such an occasion, and an 
opinion also of your peculiar merit, could have extorted 
such concessions ; for he and all his family are, and have 
been, time out of mind, mavortia pectora, as Buchanan 
saith, a bold and warlike sept, or people.” 

Edward immediately, and with natural politeness, ac- 
cepted the hand which B^lmawhapple, or rather the 
Baron in his character of mediator, extended towards 
him. “ It was impossible,” he said, “ for him to remem- 
ber what a gentleman expressed his wish he had not ut- 
tered ; and he willingly imputed what had passed to the 
exuberant festivity of the day.” 

“That is very handsomely said,” answered the Baron ; 
“ for undoubtedly, if a man be ehrius, or intoxicated, 
an incident which on solemn and festive occasions, may 
and will take place in the life of a man of honour ; and 
if the same gentleman, being fresh and sober, recants the 
contumelies which he hath spoken in his liquor, it must 
be held vinum locutum est ; the words cease to be his 
own. Yet would I not find this exculpation relevant in 
the case of one who was ehriostis, or a habitual drunkard ; 
because, if such person choose to pass the greater part 
of his time in the predicament of intoxication, he hath 
no title to be exeemed from the obligations of the code 


80 


WAVERIEY* 


of politeness, but should learn to deport himself peace- 
ably and courteously when under influence of the vinous 
stimulus. And now let us proceed to breakfast, and 
think no more of this daft business.” 

I must confess, whatever inference may be drawn 
from the circumstance, that Edward, after so satisfacto- 
ry an explanation, did much greater honour to the deli- 
cacies of Miss Bradwardine’s breakfast-table than his 
commencement had promised. Balmawhapple, on the 
contrary, seemed embarrassed and dejected ; and Wa- 
verley now, for the first time, observed that his arm was 
in a sling, which seemed to account for the awkward and 
embarrassed manner with which he had presented his 
hand. To a question from Miss Bradwardine, he mut- 
tered, in answer, something about his horse having fallen ; 
and, seeming desirous to escape both from the subject 
and the company, he arose as soon as breakfast was over, 
made his bow to the party, and, declining the Baron’s 
invitation to tarry till after dinner, mounted his horse and 
^ returned to his own home. 

Waverley now announced his purpose of leaving Tully- 
Veolan early enough after dinner to gain the stage at 
which he meant to sleep ; but the unaffected and deep 
mortification with which the good-natured and affection- 
ate old gentleman heard the proposal, quite deprived him 
of courage to persist in it. No sooner liad he gained 
Waverley’s consent to lengthen his visit for a few' days, 
than he laboured to remove the grounds upon which he 
conceived he had meditated a more early retreat. “ I 
would not have you opine, Captain W averley, that I am 
by practice or precept an advocate of ebriety, though it 
may be that, in our festivity of last night, some of our 
friends, if not perchance altogether ebrii, or drunken, 
were, to say the least, ehrioli'^ hj which the ancients de- 
signed those who were fuddled, or, as your English ver- 
nacular and metaphorical phrase goes, half-seas-over. 
Not that I would so insinuate respecting you. Captain 
Waverley, who, like a prudent youth, did rather abstain 
from potation ; nor can it he truly said of myself, who, 


WAVE RLE Y. 


81 


having assisted at the tables of many great generals and 
marechals at their solemn carousals, have the art to carry 
my wine discreetly, and did not, during the whole even- 
ing, as }e must have doubtless observed, exceed the 
bounds of a modest hilarity.” 

There was no refusing assent to a proposition so de- 
cidedly laid down by him, who undoubtedly was the best 
judge ; although, had Edward formed his opinion from 
his own recollections, he would have pronounced thit the 
Baron was not only ehriolus, but verging to become 
ehrius ; or, in plain English, was incomparably the most 
drunk of tlie party, except perhaps his antagonist, the 
Laird of Balmawhapple. However, having received the 
expected, or rather the required, compliment on his so- 
briety, the Baron proceeded — “ No, sir, though I am 
myself of a strong temperament, I abhor ebriety, and 
detest those who swallow wine gules causa, for the ob- 
lectation of the gullet ; albeit 1 might deprecate the 
law of Pittacus of Mitylene, who punished doubly a 
crime committed under the influence of Liber -Pater ; 
nor would I utterly accede to the objurgation of the 
younger Plinius, in the fourteenth book of his ‘ Historia 
Naturalis.’ No, sir, I distinguish, I discriminate, and 
approve of wine so far only as it maketh glad the face, 
or, in the language of Flaccus, recepto amicoP 

Thus terminated the apology which the Baron of 
Bradwardine thought it necessary to make for the super- 
abundance of his hospitality ; and it may be easily be- 
lieved that he was neither interrupted by dissenUnorany 
expression of incredulity. 

He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and or- 
dered that Davie Gellatley should meet them at the dern 
path with Ban and Buscar. “ For, until the shooting 
season commence, I would willingly show you some sport ; 
and we may, God willing, meet with a roe. The roe, 
Captain Waverley, may be hunted at all times alike ; 
for never being in what is called pride of grease, he is 
also never out of season, though it be a truth that his 
venison is not equal to that of either the red or fallow 


WAVERLEY. 


?2 

dcer.i^ But he will serve to show how my dogs run ; and 
therefore they shall attend us with David Gellatley.” 

Waverley expressed his surprise that his friend Dav:e 
was capable of such trust ; but the Baron gave him to 
understand that this poor simpleton was neither fatuous, 
nec naturaliter idiota, as is expressed in the brieves oi 
furiosity, but simply a crack-brained knave, who could 
execute very well any commission which jumped with 
his own humour, and made his folly a plea for avoiding 
every other. “ He has made an interest with us,” con- 
tinued the Baron, “ by saving Rose from a great danger 
with his own proper peril ; and the roguish loon must 
therefore eat of our bread and drink of our cup, and do 
what he can, or what he will ; which, if the suspicions of 
Saunderson and the Baillie are well founded, may per- 
chance in his case be commensurate terms.” 

Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, 
that this poor simpleton was doatingly fond of music, 
deeply affected by that which was melancholy, and trans- 
ported into extravagant gaiety by light and lively airs. 
He had in this respect a prodigious memory, stored with 
miscellaneous snatches and fragments of all tunes and 
songs, which he sometimes applied, with considerable 
address, as the vehicles of remonstrance, explanation, or 
satire. Davie was much attached to the few who show- 
ed him kindness ; and both aware of any slight or ill 
usage which he happened to receive, and sufficiently apt, 
where he saw opportunity, to revenge it. The common 
people, who often judge hardly of each other, as well 
as of their betters, although they had expressed great 
compassion for the poor innocent while suffered to wan- 
der in rags about the village, no sooner beheld him de- 
cently clothed, provided for, and even a sort of favourite, 
than they called up all the instances of sharpness and 
ingenuity, in action and repartee, which his annals afford- 
ed, and charitably bottomed thereupon a hypothesis, that 
David Gellatley was no farther fool than was necessary 
to avoid hard labour. This opinion was not better found- 
ed tha^ that of the Negroes who, from the acute and 


WAVKRLE Y.‘ 


83 ^ 


mischievous pranks of the monkeys, suppose that they 
have the gift of speech, and only suppress their powers oi 
elocution to escape being set to work. But the hypothesis 
was entirely imaginary ; David Gellatley was in good 
earnest the half-crazed simpleton which he appeared, and 
was incapable of any constant and steady exertion. He 
had just so much solidity as kept on the windy side ol 
insanity ; so much wild wit as saved him from the imputa- 
tion of idiocy ; some dexterity in field-sports, (in which we 
have known as great fools excel,) great kindness and hu- 
manity in the treatment of animals intrusted to him, w^arm 
affections, a prodigious memory, and an ear for music. * 

The stamping of horses was now heard in the court, 
and Davie’s voice singing to the two large deer grey- 
hounds, 

Hie away, hie away, 

0\ er bank and over brae. 

Where the copsewood is the greenest. 

Where the fountains glisten sheenest, 

Where the lad^'-fern grows strongest, 

Where the morning dew lies longest, 

Where the black-cock sweetest sips it, , < 

Where the fairy latest trips it ; 

Hie to haunts right seldom seen, 

Lovely, lonesome, cool and green, 

Over bank and over brae, " 

Hie away, hie away. 

“ Do the verses he sings,” asked Waverley, “ belong 
to old Scottish poetry. Miss Bradw^ardine ?” 

“ I believe not,” she replied. “ This poor creature 
had a brother^ and Heaven, as if to compensate to the 
family Davie’s deficiencies, had given him what the ham- 
let thought uncommon talents. An uncle contrived to 
educate him for the Scottish kirk, but he could not get 
preferment because he came from ouy ground. He re- 
turned from college hopeless and broken-hearted, and 
fell into a decline. ]\Iy father supported him till his 
death, which happened before he was nineteen. He 
played beautifully on the flute, and was supposed to have 
a great turn for poetry. He was affectionate and com- 


X 


84 


WAVERLEY. 


passionate to liis brotlier, who followed him like hig 
shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered 
many fragments of songs and music unlike those of this 
country. But if we ask him where he got such a fragment 
as he is now singing, he either answers witli wild and 
long fits of laughter, or else breaks into tears of lamen- 
tation ; but was never heard to give any explanation or to 
mention his brother’s name since his death.” 

‘‘ Surely,” said Edward, who was readily interested 
by a tale bordering on the romantic, “ surely more might 
be learned by more particular inquiry.” 

' “ Perhaps so,” answered Rose ; “ but my father will 
not permit any one to practise on his feelings on this, 
subject.” 

By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saun- 
derson, had indued a pair of jack-boots of large dimen- 
sion, and now invited our hero to follow him as he stalked 
clattering down the ample stair-case, tapping each huge 
balustrade as he passed with the butt of his massive 
horse-whip, and humming, with the air of a chasseur of 
Louis Quatorze, ^ 

Pour la chasse ordonnfee il faut preparer tout, 

Ho la ho ! Vile ! vite debout 


CHAPTER Xlll. 

A more Rational Day than the Last. 

The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active 
and well-managed horse, and seated on a demi-pique 
saddle, with deej) housings to agree with his livery, was 
no bad* representative of the old school. His lightrcol- 
oured embroidered coat, and superbly barred waistcoat, 
his brigadier wig, surmounted by a small gold-laced 


WAVERI.EY. 


85 


cocked-hat, completed his personal costume ; but he was 
attended by two well-mounted servants on horseback, 
armed witli holster-pistols. 

In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the 
admiration of every farm-yard which they ])assed in their 
pro gress ; till, “ low down in a grassy vale,” they found 
David Gellatley leading two very tall deer greyhounds, 
and presiding over half a dozen curs, and about as many 
bare-legged and bare-headed boys, who, to procure the 
chosen distinction of attending on the chase, had not 
failed to tickle his ears with the dulcet appellation of 
Maister Gellatley, though probably all and each had 
hooted him on former occasions in the character of daft 
Davie. But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to 
persons in office, nor altogether confined to the bare- 
legged villagers of Tully-Veolan ; it was in fashion Sixty 
Years Since, is now, and will be six hundred years 
hence, if this admirable compound of folly and knavery, 
called the world, shall be then in existence. 

These gillie-ivct-foots^^^s they were called, were des* 
tined to beat the bushes, which they performed with so 
much success, that, after half an hour’s search, a roe 
was started, coursed, and killed ; the Baron following 
on his white horse, like Earl Percy of yore, and mag- 
nanimously flaying and embowelling the slain animal, 
(which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs, 
faire la curie) with his own baronial couteau de chasse. 
After this ceremony, he conducted his guest homeward 
by a pleasant and circuitous route, commanding an ex- 
tensive prospect of different villages and houses, to each 
of which INIr. Bradwardine attached some anecdote of 
history or genealogy, told in language whimsical from 
prejudice and pedantry, but often respectable fj#r the 
good sense and honourable feelings which his narratives 
disj)lnyed, and almost always curious, if not valuable, 
for the 'nformation they contained. 

The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gen- 
Jemen, because they found amusement in each other’s 

VOL. I. 


66 


WAVE RLE Y. 


conversation, although their characters and habits of 
thinking were in many respects totally opposite. Ed- 
ward, we have informed the reader, was warm in his 
feelings, wild and romantic in his ideas and in his taste 
of reading, with a strong disposition towards poetry. 
Mr. Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and piqued 
himself upon stalking through life with the same upright, 
starched, stoical gravity which distinguished his evening 
promenade upon the terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for 
hours together — the very model of old Hardyknute — 

Stately stepp’d he east the wa’, 

And stately stepp’d he west. 

As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, 
and the Epithalamium of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur 
Johnstone’s Psalms, of a Sunday ; and the Deliciae Poet- 
arum Scotorum, and Sir David Lindsay’s Works, and 
Barbour’s Bruce, and Blind Harry’s Wallace, and the Gen- 
tle Shepherd, and the Cherry and the Slae. But though 
he thus far sacrificed his time to the muses, he would, if 
the truth must be spoken, have been much better pleased 
had the pious or sapient apothegms, as well as the his- 
torical narratives which these various works contained, 
been presented to him in the form of simple prose. And 
he sometimes could not refrain from expressing contempt 
of the “ vain and unprofitable art of poem-making,” in 
which, he said, “ the only one who had excelled in his 
time was Allan Ramsay, the periwig-maker.”^^ 

But although Edward and he differed toto ccclo, as the 
Baron would have said, upon this subject, yet they met 
upon history as on a neutral ground, in which each claim- 
ed an interest. The Baron, indeed, only cumbered his 
memorj with matters of fact ; the cold, dry, hard out- 
lines which history delineates. Edward, on the contrary, 
loved to fill up and round the sketch with the colouring 
of a warm and vivid imagination, which gives light and 
life to tlie actors and speakers in the drama of past ages. 
Yet with tastes so opposite, they contributed greatly to 
each other’s amusement. Mr. Bradwardine’s minute 


M AVERLEY. 


87 


narratives and powerful memory supplied to ^A'averley 
fresh subjects of the kind upon which his fancy loved to 
labour, and opened to him a new mine of incident and 
of character. And he repaid the pleasure thus commu- 
nicated, by an earnest attention, valuable to all storv- 
tellers, more especially to the Baron, who felt his habits 
of self-respect flattered by it ; and sometimes also by 
reciprocal communications, which interested Mr. Brad- 
wardine, as confirming or illustrating his own favourite 
anecdotes. Besides, Mr. Bradwardine loved to talk of 
the scenes of his youth, which had been spent in camps 
and foreign lands, and had many interesting particulars 
to tell of the generals under whom he had served, and 
the actions he had witnessed. 

Both parlies returned to Tully-Veolan in great good 
humour with each other ; Waverley, desirous of studying 
more attentively what he considered as a singular and 
interesting character, gifted with a memory containing a 
curious register of ancient and modern anecdotes ; and 
Bradwardine disposed to regard Edward as puer (or 
rather juvenis) bonce spei et magnce indolis, a youth de- 
void of that petulant volatility, which is impatient of, or 
vilipends, the conversation and advice of his seniors, from 
which he predicted great things of his future success and 
deportment in life. There was no other guest except 
Mr. Rubrick, whose information and discourse, as a 
clergyman and a scholar, harmonized very well with that 
of the Baron «nd his guest. 

Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his 
temperance was not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit 
to Rose’s apartment, or, as he termed it, her Troisicme 
Eiage, Waverley was accordingly conducted through 
one or two of those long awkward passages with which 
ancient architects studied to puzzle the inhabitants of the 
houses which they planned, at the end of which Mr. 
Bradwardine began to ascend, by two steps at once, a 
verj'" steep, narrow, and winding stair, leaving Mr. Ru- 
brick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while he 
should announce their approach to his daughter. 


8S 


WAVERLET 


After having climbed this perpenaicular corkscrevi 
until their brains were almost giddy, they arrived in a 
little matted lobby, which served as an anteroom to Rose’s 
sanctum sanctorum^ and through which they entered her 
parlour. It was a small, but pleasant apartment, opening 
to the south, and hung with tapestry ; adorned besides 
with two pictures, one of her mother, in the dress of a 
shepherdess, with a bell-hoop ; the other of the Baron, 
in his tenth year, in a blfie coat, embroidered waistcoat, 
laced hat, and bag-wig, with a bow in his hand. Edward 
could not help smiling at the costume, and at the odd 
resemblance between the round, smooth, red-cheeked, 
staring visage in the portrait, and the gaunt, bearded, 
hollow-eyed, swarthy features, which travelling, fatigues 
of war, and advanced age, had bestowed on the original. 
The Baron joined in the laugh. “ Truly,” he said, 
“ that picture was a woman’s fantasy of my good moth- 
er’s, (a daughter of the Laird of Tulliellum, Captain 
Waverley ; I indicated the house to you when we were 
• on the top of the Shinny-heuch ; it was burnt by the 
Dutch auxiliaries brought in by the government in 1715 ;) 
I never sat for my pourtraicture but once since that was 
painted, and it was at the special and reiterated request 
of the Marechal Duke of Berwick.” 

The good old gentleman did not mention what Mr. 
Rubrick afterwards told Edward, that the Duke had 
done him this honour on account of his being the first to 
mount the breach of a fort in Savoy duririg the memora- 
ble campaign of 1709, and his having there defended 
himself with his half-pike for nearly ten minutes before 
any support reached him. To do the Baron justice, al- 
though sufficiently prone to dwell upon, and even to exag- 
gerate his family dignity and consequence, he was too 
much a man of real courage ever to allude to such per- 
sonal acts of merit as he had himself manifested. 

Miss Rose now appeared from the interior room of 
her apartment, to welcome her father and his friends. 
The little labours in which she had been empLyed ob- 
viously showed a natural taste, which required only cul- 


WAVERLEY. 


89 


livation. Her father had taught her French and Italian, 
and a lew of the ordinary authors in those languages 
ornamented her shelves. He had endeavoured also to 
be her preceptor in music : hut as he began with the 
more abstruse doctrines of the science, and was not per- 
haps master of them himself, she had made no proficiency 
tarther than to he able to accompany her voice with the 
harpsichord ; hut even this was not very common in 
Scotland at that period. To make amends, she sung 
with great taste and feeling, and with a respect ta the 
sense of what she uttered that might be proposed in ex- 
ample to ladies of much superior musical talent. Her 
natural good sense taught her, that if, as we are assured 
by high authority, music be “ married to immortal verse,” 
they are very often divorced by the performer in a most 
shameful manner. It was perhaps owing to this sensi- 
bility to j)oetry, and power of combining its expression 
with those of the musical notes, that her singing gave 
more pleasure to all the unlearned in music, and even to 
many of the learned, than could have been communicated 
by a much finer voice and more brilliant execution, un- 
guided by the same delicacy of feeling. 

A bartizan, or projecting galleiy, before the windows 
of her parlour, served to illustrate another of Rose’s 
pursuits, for it was crowded with flowers of different 
kinds, wiiich she had taken under her special protection. 
A projecting turret gave access to this Gothic balcony, 
which commanded a most beautiful prospect. The for- 
mal garden, with its high hounding walls, lay below*, con- 
tracted, as it seemed, to a mere parterre ; while the 
view extended beyond them down a wooded glen, where 
the small river was sometimes visible, sometimes hidden 
in copse. The eye might be delayed by a desire to rest 
on the rocks, which here and there rose from the dell 
with massive or spiry fronts, or it might dwell on the no- 
ble, though ruined tower, wdiich was here beheld in all 
its dignity, frowning from a promontory over the river. 
To the left were seen two or three cottages, a part of the 

VOL. I. 


Of) 


AVAVERLEY. 


village ; the brow of the hill concealed the others- Ihe 
glen, or dell, was terminated by a sheet of water, called 
Loch Veolan, into which the brook discharged itself, 
and which now glistened in the western sun. The dis- 
tant country seemed open and varied in surface, though 
not wooded ; and there was nothing to interrupt the 
view until the scene was bounded by a ridge of distant 
and blue hills, which formed the southern boundary of 
the strath or valley. To this pleasant station Miss Brad- 
vvardine had ordered coffee. 

The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced 
some family anecdotes and tales of Scottish chiv’^lry, 
which the Baron told with great enthusiasm. The pro- 
jecting peak of an impending crag which rose near it, 
had acquired the name of St. Swithin’s Chair. It was 
the scene of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Ku- 
brick mentioned some curious particulars, which remind- 
ed Waverley of a rhyme quoted by Edgar in King Lear ; 
and Rose w'as called upon to sing a little legend, in which 
they had been interwoven by some village poet, 

Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung, 

Saved others’ names, but left his own unsung. 


The sweetness of her voice, and the simple beauty of 
her music, gave all the advantage which the minstrel 
could have desired, and which his poetry so much wanted. 
I almost doubt if it can be read with patience, destitute 
of these advanttfges ; although I conjecture the following 
copy to have been somewhat corrected by Waverley, to 
suit the taste of those who might not relish pure antiquity. 

cStoCtijin’xi 

On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest. 

Ever beware that your couch be bless’d ; 

Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead 
Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. 


For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride. 
And all her nine-fold sweeping on by mtr sitk', ; 


WAVERLEY. 


99 


. , VVliother the wind sing' lowly or louct, 

Sailing through moonshine or swath’d in the cloud. 

The Lady she sat in St. Swithin’s Chair, 

The dew of the niglit has damp’d her hair : 

Her cheek was pale — hut resolved and high 

as the word of her lip and the glance of her eye. 

She mutter’d the spell of St. Swithin hold, 

When his naked foot tracetl the niiilnight wold, 

When he stopp’d tlie Hag as she ixxle the night. 

And bade herjJesceiid, and her promise plight. 

He that dare sit on St. Swithin’s Chair, 

When the Night-flag wings the troubled air, 

(iuestit).'is three, when lie speaks the spell, 

He may ask, and she must tell. 

The Baron has been witli King Robert liis liege, 

These three long years in battle and siege ; 

News there are none of his weal or his woe, 

And fain the Lady his fate would know. 

She shmlders and stops as the charm she speaks 
Is it the moody owl that shrieks ? 

Or is it that sound, betwixt laughter uikI scream. 

The voice of the Demon ho haunts the stream ? 

The nroan of the wind sunk silent atid low. 

And the roaring torrent has ceased to How ; 

The calm was more dreadful than raging storm. 

When the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form ! 

***** 

“ I am sorry to disappoint the company, especially 
Captain Waverley, who listens with such laudable grav^ 
ity ; it is but a fragment, although I think there are other 
verses, describing the return of the Baron I’rom the wars, 
and how the lady was found ‘ clay-cold upon the groun- 
sill led^e: ” 

It is one of those figments,” observed Mr. Brad war- 
dine, “ with which the early history of distinguished 
families was deformed in the limes of superstition ; as 
that of Rome, and other ancient nations, had their prod 

7 . 


92 


WAVEULEY. 


igies, sir, the which you mny read in ancient nisiories, 
or in the little work compiled by Julius Obsec|uens, and 
inscribed by the learned Scheffer, the editor, to his pa- 
tron, Benedictus Skytte, Baron ol Dudershoff.” 

“ My lather has a strange defiance of tiie marvellous, 
Captain Waverley,” observed Rose, “ and once stood 
firm when a whole synod of presbyterian divines were 
put to the rout by a sudden apparition of the foul fiend.” 

Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more. 

“Must 1 tell my ‘story as well as sing my song — 
Well — Once upon a time there lived an old woman, call- 
ed Janet Gellatley, who was suspected to be a witch, on 
the infallible grounds that she was very old, very ugly, 
very poor, and had two sons, one of whom was a poet, 
and the other a fool, which visitation, all the neighbour- 
hood agreed, had come upon her for the sin of witch- 
craft. And she was imprisoned for a week in the steeple 
of the parish church, and sparely supplied with food, and 
not permitted to sleep, until she herself became as much 
persuaded of her being a witch as her accusers ; and in 
this lucid and happy state of mind was brought forth to 
make a clean breast, that is, to make open confession of 
her sorceries before all the whig gentry and ministers in 
the vicinity, who were no conjurors themselves. My 
father went to see fair play between the witch and the 
clergy ; for the witch had been born on his estate. And 
while the witch was confessing that the Enemy appeared, 
and made his addresses to her as a handsome black man, 
— which, if you could have seen poor old blear-eyed 
Janet, reflected little honour on Apollyon’s taste, — and 
wnile the auditors listened with astonished ears, and the 
clerk recorded with a trembling hand, she, all of a sud- 
den, changed the low mumbling tone with which she 
spoke, into a shrill yell, and exclaimed, ‘ Look to your- 
selves ! look to yourselves ! I see the Evil One sitting 
in the midst of ye.’ The surprise was general, and 
terror and flight its immediate consequences. Happy 
were those who were next the door ; and many were 
the disasters that befel hats, bands, cuffs, and wigs, before 


WAVEULEY. 


m 

they could get out of the church, where they left the ob- 
stinate prelatist to settle matters with the witch and her 
admirer, at his own peril or pleasure.” 

“ Risu solvuntur iabulce,^^ said the Baron ; “ when 
they recovered their panic trepidation, they were too 
much ashamed to bring any wakening of the process 
against Janet Gellatley.”^^ 

This anecdote led into a long discussion of 

AH tho5e idle thoughts and phantasies, 

- Devices, dreams, opinions unsound. 

Shows, visions, soothsays, and prophecies. 

And all that feigned is, as leasings, tales, and lies. 

With such conversation, and the romantic legends 
which it introduced, closed our hero’s second evening in 
the house of Tully-Veolan. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A Discovery — Waverley becomes domesticated at Tully 
, Veolan, 

The next day- Edward arose betimes, and in a morn- 
ing walk around the house and its vicinity, came suddenly 
upon a small court in front of the dog-kennel, where his 
friend Davie was employed about his four-footed charge. 
One quick glance of his eye recognised Waverley, when, 
instantly turning his back, as if he had not observed him, 
lie began to sing part of an old ballad : 


Young men will love thee more fair and more fast ; 

Heard ye so merry the little bird sing 7 
Old men’s love the longest will last. 

And the throstle-cock’s head is under his wing. 


91 


WAVERLEY. 


The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire » 

Heard ye so merry the little bird sins; ? 

Cut like red-hot steel is the old man’s ire, 

And the throstle-code’s head is under his wing. 

The young man will brawl at the evening board ; 

Heard ye so merry the little bird sing ? 

But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, 

And the throstle-cock’s head is under his wing. 

Waverley could not avoid observing that Davie laid 
something like a satirical emphasis on these lines. He 
therefore approached, and endeavoured, by sundry que- 
ries, to elicit from him what the innuendo might mean 
but Davie had no mind to explain, and had wit enough 
to make his folly cloak his knavery. Edward could col- 
lect nothing from him, excepting that the Laird of Bal- 
mawhapple had gone home yesterday morning, “ wi’ 
his boots fu’ o’ bluid.” In the garden, however, he met 
the old butler, who no longer attempted to conceal, that, 
having been bred in the nursery line with Sumack and 
Co. of Newcastle, he sometimes wrought a turn in the 
flower-borders to oblige the Laird and Miss Rose. By 
a series of queries, Edward at length discovered, with a 
painful feeling of surprise and shame, that Balmawhap- 
ple’s submission and apology had been the consequence 
of a rencontre with the Baron before his guest had quitted 
his pillow, in which the younger combatant had been dis- 
armed and wounded in the sword arm. 

Greatly mortified at this information, Edward sought 
out his friendly host, and anxiously expostulated with 
him upon the injustice he had done him in antici- 
pating his meeting with Mr. Falconer, a circumstance, 
which, considering his youth and the profession of arms 
which he had just adopted, was capable of being repre- 
sented much to his prejudice. The Baron justified 
himself at greater length than I choose to repeat. He 
urged, that the quarrel was common to them, and that 
Balmawhapple could not, by the code of honour, evite 
giving satisfaction to both, which he had done in his 
case by an honourable meeting, and in that of Edward 


WAVERLEY. 


95 


by such a palinode as rendered the use ot the sword 
unnecessary, and which, being made and accepted, must 
necessarily sopite the whole affair. With this excuse 
or explanation, Waverley was silenced, if not satisfied, 
but he could not help testifying some displeasure against 
the Blessed Bear, which had given rise to the quarrel, 
nor refrain from hinting, that the sanctified epithet was 
hardly appropriate. The Baron observed, he could 
not deny that “ the Bear, though allowed by heralds as 
a most honourable ordinary, had, nevertheless, some- 
\^^iat fierce, churlish, and morose in his disposition, (as 
might be read in Archibald Simpson, pastor of Dalkeith’s 
Hieroglyphica Animalium,) and had thus been the type 
of many quarrels and dissensions which had occurred 
in the hous6 of Bradwardine ; of which,” he continu- 
ed, “ I might commemorate mine own unfortunate dis- 
sension with my third cousin by the mother’s side, Sir 
Hew Halbert, who was so unthinking as to deride my 
family name, as if it had been quasi Bear- Warden ; a 
most uncivil jest, since it not only insinuated that the 
founder of our house occupied such a mean- situation as 
to be a custodier of wild beasts, a charge which, ye 
must have observed, is only intrusted to the very basest 
plebeians ; but, moreover, seemed to infer that our coat- 
armour had not been achieved by honourable actions in 
war, but bestowed hy way paranomasia, or pun, upon 
our family appellation, — a sort of bearing which the 
French call armoires parlautes ; the Latins arma can- 
tantia ; and your English authorities, canting heraldry ; 
being indeed a species of emblazoning more befitting 
canters, gaberlunzies, and such like mendicants, whose 
gibberish is formed upon playing upon the word, than the 
noble, honourable, and useful science of heraldry, which 
assigns armorial bearings as the reward of noble and 
generous actions, and not to tickle the ear with vain 
quodlibets, such as are found in jest-books.”^ Of his 
quarrel with Sir Hew he said nothing more, than that it 
was settled in a fitting manner. 


AVAVE11J.K\'. 


‘i6 


Having been so minute with respect to the diversions 
of Tully-Veolan, on the first days of Edward’s arrival, 
for the purpose of introducing its inmates to the read- 
er’s acquaintance, it becomes less' necessary to trace the 
progress of his intercourse with the same accuracy. It 
is probable that a young man, accustomed to more 
cheerful society, would have tired of the conversation_ol 
so violent an asserter of the “ boast of heraldry” as the 
Baron ; but Edward found an agreeable variety in that 
of Miss Bradwal'dine, who listened with eagerness ^to 
his remarks upon literature, and showed great justness 
of taste in her answers. The sweetness of her disposi- 
tion had rnade her submit with complacency, and even 
pleasure, to the course of reading prescribed- by her 
father, although it not only comprehended several heavy 
folios of history, but certain gigantic tomes in high- 
church polemics. 1-n heraldry he was fortunately con- 
tented to give her only such a slight tincture as might 
be acquired by perusal of the two folio volumes of 
Nisbel. Rose was indeed the very apple of her fath- 
er’s eye. Her constant liveliness, her attention to all 
those little observances most gratifying to those who 
would never think of exacting them, her beauty, in 
which he recalled the features of his beloved wife, her 
unfeigned piety, and the noble generosity of her dispo- 
sition, would have justified the- affection of the n^ost 
doating father. 

His anxiety on her behalf did not, however, seem to 
extend itself in that quarter, where, according^ to the 
general opinion, it is most efficiently displayed; in la- 
bouring, namely, to establish her in life, either by a large 
dowry or a wealthy marriage. By an old settlement, 
almost all the landed estates of the Baron went, after 
his death, to a distant relation ; and it was supposed that 
Migs Bradvvardine would remain but slenderly provided 
for, as the good gentleman’s cash matters had been 
loo long under the exclusive charge of Baillie Mac- 
wheeble, to admit of any great expectations from his 
personal succession. It 's true the said Baillie loved 


W AVKRLKY. 


97 


his patron and his patron’s daughter next (tnough at an 
incomparable distance) to himself. He thought it was 
possible to set aside the settlement on the male line, 
and had actually procured an opinion to that eflect (and, 
as be boasted, without a fee) from an eminent Scottish 
counsel, under whose notice he contrived to bring the 
point while consulting him regularly on some other bus- 
iness. But the Baron would not listen to such a propo- 
sal for an instant. On the contrary, he used to liave*a 
perverse pleasure in boasting that the barony of Brad- 
wardine was a male fief, tlie first charter having been 
given at that early period when women were not deem- 
ed capable to hold a feudal grant ; because, according 
to Ij^s cousiusmes de JVormandie c^est Vhomme ki se bast 
et ki conseille ; or, as is yet more ungallantly expressed 
by other authorities, all of whose barbarous names he 
delighted to quote at full length, because a woman could 
not serve the superior, or feudal lord, in war, on ac- 
count of the decorum of her sex,^or assist him with 
advice, because of her limited intellect, nor keep his 
counsel, owing to the infirmity of her disposition. He 
would triumphantly ask, how it would become a female, 
and that female a Bradwardine, to be seen employed in 
servitio exuendi, sen detrahendi, caligas regis post haU 
taliam ? that is, in pulling off the king’s boots after an 
engagement, which was the feudal service by which he 
held the barony of Bradwardine. “No,” he said, “ be- 
yond hesitation, procul dubio, many females, as worthy 
as Rose, had been excluded, in order to make way for 
my own succession, and Heaven forbid that 1 should do 
aught that might contravene the destination ol my fore - 
fathers, or impinge upon the right of my kinsman, Mal- 
colm Bradwardine of Inchgrabhit, an honourable, though 
decayed branch of my own family.” • 

The Baillie, as prime minister, having received this 
decisive communication from his sovereign, durst not 
press his own opinion any farther, but contented himself 
with deploring, on all suitable occasions, to Saunderson, 
VOL. I. 


98 


WAVERLEY. 


the minister of the interior, the laird’s self-willedness, 
and with laying plans for uniting Rose with the young 
Laird of Balinawhapple, wlio had a fine estate, only 
moderately burdened, and was a laultless young gentle- 
man, being as sober as a saint — if you keep brandy from 
him, and him from brandy — and who, in brief, had no 
imperfection but that of keeping light company at a 
time ; such as Jinker, the horse-couper, and Gibby Gae- 
throwi’t, the piper o’ Cupar; “o’ whilk follies, ]\fr. 
Saunderson, he’ll mend, he’ll mend,” — pronounced the 
Baillie. 

“ Like sour ale in simmer,” added Davie Gellatley, 
who happened to be nearer the conclave, than they were 
aware of. ^ 

Miss Bradwardine, such as we have described her, 
with all the simplicity and curiosity of a recluse, at- 
tached herself to the opportunities of increasing her 
store of literature which Edward’s visit afforded her. 
He sent for some (^‘his books from his quarters, and 
they opened to her sources of delight of which she had 
hitherto had no idea. The best English poets, of 
every description, and other works on belles lettres, 
made a part of this precious cargo. Her music, even 
her flowers, were neglected, and Saunders not only 
mourned over, but began to mutiny against the labour 
for which he now scarce received thanks. These new 
pleasures became gradually enhanced by sharing them 
with one of a kindred taste. Edward’s readiness to 
comment to recite, to explain difficult passages, ren- 
dered his assistance invaluable : and the wild romance 
of his spirit delighted a character too young and inex- 
perienced to observe its deficiencies. Upon subjects 
which interested him, and when quite at ease, he pos- 
sessed that flow of natural, and somewhat florid elo- 
quence, which has been supposed as irowerful even as fig- 
ure, fashion, fame, or fortune, in winning the female b.eart. 
There was, therefore, an increasing danger, in this con^ 
stant intercourse, to j)oor Reese’s peace of mind, which 
was the more imminent, as her fatli6r was greatly too 


WAVER LEY. 


99 


much abstracted in his studies, and wrapped up in his 
own dignity, to dream of his daughter’s incurring; it. 
The daughters of the house of Bradwardine were, in 
his (^pinion, like those of the liouse of Bourbon or Aus- 
tria, placed high above the xlouds of passion which 
might obfuscate the intellects of meaner femalea; they 
mov(^d in another sphere, were governed by other feel- 
ings, and amenable to other rules, than those of idle and 
fantastic affection. In short, he shut his eyes so reso- 
lutely to the natural consequences of Edward’s intima- 
cy wilh Miss Bradwardine, that the whole neighbour- 
hood concluded that he had opened them to the advan- 
tages of a match between his daughter and the wealthy 
young Englishman, and pronounced him much less a 
fool than he had generally shown himself in cases where 
his own interest was concerned. n 

If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an 
alliance, the indifference of Waverley would have been 
an insuperable bar to his project. Our hero, since 
mixing more freely with the world, had learned to think 
with great shame and confusion upon his mental legend 
of Saint Cecilia, and the vexation of these reflections 
was likely, for some. time at least, to counterbalance the 
natural susceptibility of his> disposition. Besides, Rose 
Bradwardine, beautiful and amiable as we have describ- 
ed her, had not precisely the sort of beauty or merit 
which captivates a romantic imagination in early youth. 
She was" too frank, too confiding, too kind ; amiable 
qualities, undoubtedly, but destructive of the marvel- 
lous, with which a youth of imagination delights to dress 
the empress of his affections. Was it possible to bow, 
to tremble, and to adore, before the timid, yet playful 
little girl, who now asked Edward to mend her pen, 
now to construe a stanza in Tasso, and now how to 
spell a /erv — ^very long word in her version of it ^ All 
these incidents have their fascination on the, mind at a 
certain period of life, but not when a youth is entering 
it, and rather looking out for some object whose affec- 
tion may dignify him in his own eyes, than stooping to 


100 


WAVERLEY. 


one who looks up to him for such distinction. Hence, 
though there can be no rule in so capricious a passion, 
early love is frequently ambitious in choosing its object ; 
or, which comes to the same, selects her (as in the case 
of Saint Cecilia aforesaid) from a situation that gives 
fair scope for le beau ideal, which the reality of intimate 
and familiar life rather tends to limit and impair. J 
• knew a very accomj)lished and sensible young man cured 
of a violent passion for a pretty woman, wiiose talents 
were not equal to her face and figure, by being permit- 
ted to bear her company for a wiiole afternoon. Thus, 
it is certain, that had Edward enjoyed such an opportu- 
nity of conversing with Miss Stubbs, Aunt Rachel’s 
precaution would have been unnecessary, for he \\ould 
as soon have fallen in love with the dairy-maid. And 
although Miss Bradwardine was a very different charac- 
ter, it seems probable that the very intimacy of their 
intercourse prevented his feeling for her other sentiments 
than those of a brother for an amiable and accomplish- 
ed sister ; while the sentiments of poor Rose were grad- 
ually, and without her being conscious, assuming a shade 
af warmer affection. 

I ought to have said that Edward, when he sent to Dun- 
dee for the books before mentioned, had applied for, and 
received permission, extending his leave of absence. But 
the letter of his commanding-officer contained a friendly 
recommendation to him, not to spend his time exclusively 
with persons, who, estimable as they might be in a general 
sense, could not be supposed well affected to a government, 
which they declined to acknowledge by taking the oath ol 
allegiance. The letter further insinuated, though with 
great delicacy, that although some family connexions might 
be supposed to render it necessary for Captain Waverley 
' to comrnunicate with gentlemen wlio were in this unpleas- 
ant state of suspicion, yet his father’s situation and wishes 
ought to prevent his prolonging those attentions into ex- 
clusive intimacy. And it was intimated, that while his 
oolitical principles were endangered by communicating 
<vith laymen of this description> he might also receive erro- 


% 

WAVKRLRY. 1 01 

% 

neons impressions in religion from the prelatic clergy, 
who so perversely laboured to set up the royal prerog- 
ative in things sacred. 

This last insinuation probably induced Waverley to 
set both down to the prejudices of his commanding- 
officer. He was sensible that Mr. Bradwardine had 
acted with the most scrupulous delicacy, in never entering 
upon any discussion that had the most remote tendency 
to bias his mind in political opinions, although he was 
himself not only a decided partizan of the exiled family, 
but had been trusted at different times with important 
commissions for their service. Sensible, therefore, 
that there was no risque of his being perverted from his 
allegiance, Edward felt as if he should do his uncle’s old 
friend injustice in removing from a house where he gave 
and received pleasure and atnusement, merely to gratify 
a prejudiced and ill-judged suspicion. He therefore 
wrote a very general answer, assuring his commanding- 
officer that his loyalty was not in the most distant dan- 
ger of contamination, and continued an honoured guest 
and inmate of the house of Tully-Veolan. 


CHAPTER* XV. 

A Creagh and its Consequences!^ 

When Edward had been a guest at Tully-Veolan 
nearly six weeks, he descried one morning, as he took 
his usual walk before the breakfast hour, signs of un- 
common perturbation in the family. Four bare-legged 
dairy-maids, with each an empty milk-pail in her hand, 
ran about with frantic gestures, and uttering loud ex- 
clamations of surprise, grief and resentment. From 
their appearancp, a pagan might have conceived them a 
VCL 1 


102 


WAVERLEY. 


detachment of the celebrated Belides, just come from 
their baleing penance. As nothing was to be got from 
this distracted chorus, excepting “ Lord guide us !” and 
“ Eh sirs !” ejaculations which threw no light upon the 
cause of their dismay, Waverley repaired to the fore- 
court, as it was called, where he beheld Baillie Mac- 
wheeble cantering his white pony down the avenue with 
all the speed it could muster. He had arrived, it would 
seem, upon a hasty summons, and was followed by half 
a score of peasants from the village, who had no great 
©lifficutty in keeping pace with him. 

The Baillie, gfeatly too busy, and too important, to 
enter into explanations with Edw^ard, summoned forth 
Mr. Saunderson, who appeared with a countenance in 
which dismay was mingled with solemnity, and they 
immediately entered into close conference. Davie Gel- 
latley was also seen in the group, idle as Diogenes at 
Sinope, while his countrymen were preparing for a 
siege. His spirits always rose with anything, good or 
bad, which occasioned tumult, and he continued frisk- 
ing, hopping, dancing, and singing the burden of an old 
ballad, — 

" Our gear’s a’ gaiie,” 

until, happening to pass too near the Baillie, he received 
an admonitory hint from his horsewhip, which convert- 
ed his songs into lamentation. 

Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley 
beheld the Baron in person, measuring and re-measur- 
ing, with swift and tremendous strides, the length of the 
terrace; his countenance clouded with offended pride 
and indignation, and the whole of his demeanour such 
as seemed to indicate, that any inquiry' concerning the 
cause of his discomposure, would give pain at least, if 
not offence. Waverley therefore glided into tlie iiouse, 
without addressing him, and took his way to the break- 
fast parlour, where he found his young friend Rose, 
who, though she neither exhibited the resentment of hei 
father, the turbid importance of Baillie Macwheeble, nor 


WAVE RLE T. 


103 


the despair of the handmaidens, seemed vexed and 
thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery 
“ Your breakfast will be a disturbed one, Captain Waver- 
ley. A party of Caterans have come down upon us 
last night, and have driven off all our milch cows.” 

“ A party of Caterans 

‘‘ Yes 5 robbers from the neighbouring Highlands. 
We used to be quite free from them while we paid black- 
mail to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr ; but my father 
thought it unworthy of his rank and birth to pay it any 
longer, and so this disaster has happened. It is not tlie 
value of the cattle. Captain Waverley, that vexes me; 
but my father is so much hurt at the aftiont, and is so bold 
and hot, that I fear he will try to recover them by the 
strong hand ; and if he is not hurt himself, he will hurt 
some of these wild people, and then there will be no 
peace between them and us perhaps for our lifetime ; 
and we cannot defend ourselves as in old times, for the 
government have taken all our arms ; and my dear 
father is so rash — O what will become of us !”— 
Here poor Rose lost heart altogether, and burst into a 
flood of tears. 

The Baron entered at this moment, and rebuked her 
with more asperity than Waverley had ever heard him 
use to any one. “ Was it not a shame,” he said, “that 
she should exhibit herself before any gentleman in such 
a light, as if she shed tears for a drove of horned nolt 
and milch kine, like the daughter of a Cheshire yeo- 
man ! — Captain Waverley, I must request your favour- 
able construction of her grief, which may, or ought to 
proceed solely from seeing her father’s estate exposed 
to spulzie and depredation from common thieves and 
sornars, while we are not allowed to keep half a score 
of muskets, whether for defence or rescue.”^ 

Baillie Macwheeble entered imrnediately afterwards, 
and by his report of arms and ammunition confirmed 
this statement, informing the Baron, in a melancholy 
voice, that though the people would certainly obey his 
honour’s orders, yet there was no chance of their fol* 


104 


WAVERLEY. 


lowing the gear to ony glide purpose, in respect there 
were only his honour’s body servants, who had swords 
and pistols, and the depredators w'ere twelve Highland- 
ers, completely armed after the manner of their coun- 
try. — Having delivered this doleful annunciation, he as- 
sumed a posture of silent dejection, shaking his head 
slowly until the motion of a pendulum when it is ceasing 
to vibrate, and then remained stationary, his body stoop- 
ing at a more acute angle than usual, and the latter part 
of his person projecting in proportion. 

The Baron, meanwhile, paced the room in silent in- 
dignation, and at length fixing his eye upon an old por- 
trait, whose person was clad in armour, and whose fea- 
tures glared grimly out of a huge bush of hair, part of 
which descended from his head to his shoulders, and part 
from his chin and upper lip to his breast-plate, — “ That 
gentleman, Captain Waverley, my grandsire,” he said, 
“ with two hundred horse, whom he levied within his own 
bounds, discomfited and put to the rout more than five 
hundred of these Highland reivers, who have been ever 
lapis offeyisionis, etpetra scandali, a stumbling-block and 
a rock of offence to the Lowland vicinage — he discom- 
fited them, 1 say, when they had the temerity to descend 
to harry this country, in the time of the civil dissensions, 
in the year of grace, sixteen hundred forty and two. 
And now, sir, I, his grandson, am thus used at such 
unworthy hands!” 

Here there was an awful pause ; after which all the 
company, as is usual in cases of difficulty, began to give 
separate and inconsistent counsel. Alexander ab Alex- 
andro proposed they should send some one to compound 
wnh the Caterans, who would readily, he said, give up 
their prey for a dollar a-head. The Baillie opined that 
ibis transaction would amount to theft-boot, or compo- 
sition of felony ; and he recommended that some canny 
hand should be sent up to the glens to make the best 
bargain he could, as it were for himself, so that the 
Laird might not be seen in such a transaction. Edward 
proposed to send off to the nearest garrison for a party 


WAVERLET. 


105 


of soldiers and a magistrate’s warrant ; and Rose, as far 
as she dared, endeavoured to insinuate the course ol 
paying the arrears of tribute money to Fergus i\!ac- 
Ivor Vich Ian Vohr, who, they all knew, could easily 
procure restoration of the cattle, if he were properly 
propitiated. 

None of these proposals met the Baron’s approbation. 
The idea ol composition, direct or implied, was absolute- 
ly Ignominious ; that of Waverley only showed that lie 
did not understand the state of the country, and of the 
[lolitical parties which divided it ; and, standing matters 
as they did with Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr, the 
Baron would make no concession to him, were it, he 
said, “ to procure restitution in integrum of every stirk 
and stot that the chief, iiis forefathers, and his clan, had 
stolen since the days of Malcolm Canmore.” 

In fact, his voice was still for war, and he proposed 
to send expresses to Balmavvhapple, Killancureit, Tulli- 
ellum, and other lairds, who were exposed to similar 
depredations, inviting them to join in the pursuit ; “ and 
then, sir, shall these nehulones nequissimi, as Leslseus 
calls them, be brought to the fate of their predecessor 
CacLis, 

Elisos oculos, et siocum sanguine gultur.” 

The Baillie, who by no means relished these warlike 
counsels, here pulled forth an immense watch, of the 
colour, and nearly of the size, of a pewter warming- 
pan, and observed it was now past noon, and that the 
Caterans had been seen in the pass of Ballybrough soon 
after sunrise ; so that before the allied forces could as- 
semble, they and their prey would be far beyond the 
reach of the most active pursuit, and sheltered in those 
pathless deserts, where it was neither advisable to fol- 
low, nor indeed possible to trace them. 

This proposition was undeniable. The council there- 
fore broke up without coming to any conclusion, as has 
occurred to councils of more importance ; only it was 
determined that the Baillie should send his own three 


106 


WAVE RLE Y. 


milk cows down to the Mains for the use of the Baron^' 
family, and brew small ale as a substitute for milk in his 
own. To this arrangement, which was suggested by 
Saunderson, the Baillie readily assented, botli from ha- 
bitual deference to the family, and an internal conscious- 
ness that his. courtesy would, in some mode or other, be 
repaid tenfold. 

The Baron having also retired to give some necessary 
directions, Waverley seized the opportunity to ask, 
whether this Fergus, with the unpronounceable name, 
was the chief thief-taker of the district 

“ Thief-taker I” answered Rose, laughing ; “ he is 
a gentleman of great honour and consequence ; the 
chieftain of an independent branch of a powerful High- 
land clan, and is much respected, both for his own pow- 
er, and that of his kith, kin, and allies.” 

“ And what has he to do with the thieves then ? Is 
he a magistrate, 'or in the commission of the peace 
asked Waverley. 

‘‘ The commission of war rather, if there be such a 
thing,” said Rose ; “ for he is a very unquiet neighbour 
to his un-friends, and keeps a greater folloiviiig on foot 
than many that have thrice his estate. As to his con- 
nection with the thieves, that I cannot well explain; but 
the boldest, of them will never steal a hoof from any one 
that pays black-mail to Vich Ian Vohr.” 

“ And what is black-mail .^” 

“ A sort of protection-money that Low-country gen- 
tlemen and heritors, lying near the Highlands, pay to 
some Highland chief, that he may neither do them harm 
himself, nor suffer it to be done to them by others ; and 
then if your cattle are stolen, you have only to send him 
u'ord, and he will Recover them ; or it may be, he will 
drive away cows from some distant place, where he has 
a quarrel, and give them to you to make up your loss.” 

“ And is this sort of Highland Jonathan Wild admit- 
ted into society, and called a gentleman .^” 

“ So much so,” said Rose, “ that the quarrel be- 
tween my father and Fergus Mac-Ivor began at a coun- 


\VAVERi.EY. 


i07 


ly meeting, where he wanted to take precedence of 
all the Lowland gentlemen then present, only my father 
w«nld not suffer it. And then he upbraided my father 
that he was under his banner, and paid him tribute ; 
and my father was in a towering passion, for Baillie 
Macvvheeble, who manages such things his own way, 
had contrived to keep this black-mail a secret from him, 
and passed it in his account for cess-money. And they 
would have fought; but Fergus Mac-Ivor said, very 
gallantly, he would never raise jiis hand against a grey 
head that was so much respected as my father’s. — 0,1 
wish, [ wish they had continued friends !” 

“ And did you ever see this INlr. Mac-Ivoit if that be 
his name. Miss Bradwardine 

“ No, that is not his name; and he would consider 
master as a sort of affront, only that you are an Eng- 
lishman, and know no better. But the Lowlanders call 
him, like other gentlemen, by the name of his estate, 
Glennaquoich ; and the Highlanders call him Vich Ian 
Vohr, that is, the Son of John the Great; and we upon 
the braes here call him by both names indifferently.” 

‘‘ I am afraid 1 shall never bring my English tongue 
to call him by either one or otheV.” 

“ But he is a very polite, handsome man,” continued 
Rose ; “ and his sister Flora is one of the most beau- 
tiful and accomplished young ladies in this country ; she 
was bred in a convent in France, and was a great friend 
of mine before this unhappy dispute. Dear Captain 
Waverley, try your influence with my father to make 
matters up. I am sure this is but the beginning of our 
troubles; for Tully-Veolan has never been a safe or 
quiet residence when we have been at feud with the 
►Highlanders. When I was a girl about ^n, there was a 
skirmish fought between a party of twenty of them, and 
my father- and his servants, behind the Mains ; and the 
bullets broke several panes in the north windows, they 
were so near. Three of the Highlanders were killed, 
and they brought them in wrapped in their plaids, and 
laid them on the stone floor of the hall ; and next morn- 


108 


MAVEELKY. 


ing, their wives and daughters came, clapping their hands, 
and crying the coronach, and shrieking, and car'ried away 
the dead bodies, with the pipes playing before them. 

I could not sleep for six weeks without starting, and 
thinking 1 heard these terrible cries, and saw the bodies 
lying on the steps^ll stiff and swathed up in their bloody 
tartans. But since that time there came a party from 
the garrison at Stirling, with a warrant from the Lord 
Justice Clerk, or some such great man, and took away 
all our arms ; and now, how are we to protect ourselves 
if they come down in any strength P” 

Waverley could not help starting at a story wdiichbore 
so much raeeniblance to one of his owm day-dreams. 
Here was a girl scarce seventeen, the gentlest of her 
sex, both in temper and appearance, who had witness 
ed with her own eyes such a scene as he had used to 
conjure up in his imagination, as only occuring in ancient 
times, and spoke of it coolly, as one very likely to recur. 
He felt at once the impulse of curiosity, arid that slight 
sense of danger which only serves to heighten its interest. 
He might have said with Malvolio, “ ‘ 1 do not now fool 
myself, to let imagination jade me !’ I am actually in the 
land of military and romantic adventures, and it only re- 
mains to be seen what will be my own share in them.” 

The whole circumstances now detailed concerning 
the state of the country, seemed equally novel and ex- 
traordinary. He had indeed often heard of Highland 
thieves, but had no idea of the systematic mode in 
which their depredations were conducted ; and that the 
practice was connived at, and even encouraged, by 
many of the Highland chieftains, who not only found 
the creaghs, or forays, useful for the purpose of train- 
ing individuals ^f their clan to the practice of arms -- 
but also of maintaining a wholesome terror among their 
Lowland neighbours, and levying, as we have seen, a 
tribute from them, under colour of protection-money. 

Baillie Macwheeble, who soon afterwards entered, ex- 
patiated still more at length upon the same topic. This 
honest gentleman’s- conversation was so formed upon his 


^VAA'ERLEY. 


ion 


professional practice, that Davie Gellatley once said his 
discourse was like a^“ charge of horning.” He assured 
our hero, that “ from the maist. ancient times of record, 
the lawless thieves, limmers, and broken men ,of die 
Higlilands, had been in fellowship together by reason ot 
their surnames, for the committing of divers thefts, reifs, 
and herships upon the honest men of theLovvCcunlry, 
when they not only intromitted with their whole goods 
and gear, corn, cattle, horse, nplt, sheep, outsight and 
insight plenishing, at their wicked pleasure, but more- 
over made prisoners, ransomed them, or concussed 
them into giving borrows (pledges,) to enter into t.ap- 
tivity again : All which was directly prohibited in divers 
parts of the Statute Book, both by the act one thousand 
five hundred and sixty-seven, and various others ; the 
whilk statutes, with all that had followed and might fol- 
low thereupon, were shamefully broken and villipended 
by the said corners, limmers, and broken men, associa- 
ted into fellowships for the aforesaid purposes of theft, 
stouthreef, fire-raising, murther, raptus mulierum^ or for- 
cible abduction of women, and such like as aforesaid.. 

It seemed like a dream to VVaverley that these deeds 
of violence should be familiar to men’s minds, and cur- 
rently talked of, as falling within the common order of 
things, and happening daily in ’the immediate vicinity, 
without his having crossed the seas, and while he was yf‘t 
in the oiierwise well-ordered island of Great Britain.-^ 


ilO 


WAVEIILEY. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

An unexpected Ally appears,'' 

The Baron returned at the dinner hour, and had in a 
s;reat measure recovered his composure and good hu- 
mour. He not only confirmed the stories Avhich Edward 
had heard from Rose and Baillie Macwheeble, but ad- 
ded many anecdotes from his o\yn experience, concern- 
ing the state of the Highlands and their inhabitants. 
The chiefs, he pronounced to be, in general, gentlemen 
of great honour and high pedigree, whose word was 
accounted as a law by all those of their own sept, or 
clan. “ It did not indeed,” he said, “ become them, 
as had occurred in late instances, to propone their/>ro5- 
apia^ a lineage, which rested for the most part on the 
vain and fond rliimes of their Seann'achies or Bhairds, 
as aequiponderate with the evidence of ancient charters 
and royal grants of antiquity, conferred upon distinguish- 
ed houses in the Low Country by divers Scottish mon- ^ 
archs ; nevertheless, such was their outrecuidance and 
presumption, as to undervalue those who possessed such 
evidents, as if they held their lands in a sheep’s skin.” 

This, by the way, pretty well explained the cause of 
quarrel between the Baron and his Highland ally. But 
he went on to state so many curious particulars concern- 
ing the manners, customs, and habits of this patriarchal 
race, that Edward’s curiosity became highly interested, 
and he inquired whether it was possible to make with 
safety an excursion into the neighbouring Highlands, 
whose dusky barrier of mountains had already excited 
his wish to penetrate beyond them. The Baron assured 
his guest that nothing would be more easy, yiroviding 
this quarrel were first made up, since he could himself 
give him letters to many of the distinguished chiefs, wdio 


WAVEULEY. 


xll 


would receive him with the utmost courtesy and hospi- 
tality. 

While they were on this topic, the door suddenly 
opened, and, ushered by Saunders Saunderson, a High- 
lander, fully armed and equipped, entered the apart- 
ment. Had it not been that Saunders acted the part 
of master of the ceremonies to this martial apparition, 
without appearing to deviate^ from his usual composure, 
and that neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Rose exhibited 
any emotion, Edward would certainly have thought the 
intrusion hostile. As it was, he started at the sight of 
what he had not yet happened to see, a mountaineer in 
his full national costume. The individual Gael was a 
stout, dark, young man, of low stature, the ample folds of 
whose plaid added to the appearance of strength which 
his person exhibited. The aliort kilt or petticoat, showed 
his sinewy and clean-made limbs ; the goat-skin purse, 
flanked by the usual defences, a dirk and steel-wrought 
pistol, hung before him ; his bonnet had a short feather 
which indicated his claim to be treated as a Duinhe- 
Wassel, or sort of gentleman ; a broad-sword dangled 
by his side, a target hung upon his shoulder, and a long 
Spanish fowling-piece occupied one of his hands. With 
the other hand he pulled off his bonnet, and the Baron, 
who well knew their customs, and the proper mode of 
addressing them, immediately said, with an air of dig- 
nity, but without rising, and much, as Edward thought, in 
the manner of a prince receiving an embassy, “Wel- 
come, Evan Dhu Maccombich ; what news from Fergus 
Mac-Tvor Vich Ian Vohr 

“ Fergus Mac-Jvor Vich Ian Vohr,” said the ambas- 
sador, in good English, “ greets you well, Baron of 
Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and is sorry there has 
been a thick cloud interposed between you and him, 
which has kept you from seeing and considering^ the 
friendship and alliances that have been between your 
houses and forbears of old ; and he prays yoy that the 
cloud may pass away, and that things may he as they 
liavo been heretofore between the clan Ivor and the 


112 


WAVERLEY. 


house of Bradwardine, when there was an egg between 
them for a flint, and a knife for a sword. And he ex- 
pects you will also say, you are sorry for the cloud, 
and no man shall hereafter ask whether it descended 
from the hill to the valley, or rose from the valley to the 
hill ; for they never struck with the scabbard who did 
not receive with the sword, and woe to him who would 
lose his friend for the stormy cloud of a spring morning.” 

To this the Baron of Bradwardine answered with 
suitable dignity, that he knew the chief of clan Ivor to 
be a well-wisher to the King, and he was sorry there 
should have been a cloud between him and any gentle- 
man of such sound principles, “ for when folks are band- 
ing together, feeble is he who hath no brother.” 

• This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace 
between these august persons might be duly solemniz- 
ed, the Baron ordered a stoup of usquebaugh, and, fill- 
ing a glass, drank to the health and prosperity of Mac- 
Ivor of Glennaquoich ; upon which the Celtic ambas- 
sador, to requite his politeness, turned down a mighty 
bumper of the same generous liquor, seasoned with his 
good wishes to the house of Bradwardine. 

Having thus ratified the preliminaries of the genera] 
treaty of pacification, the envoy retired to adjust with 
Mr. Macwheeble some subordinate articles with which 
It was not thought* necessary to trouble the Baron. These 
probably referred to the discontinuance of the subsidy, 
and apparently the Baillie found means to satisfy their 
ally, without suffering his master to suppose that his dig- 
nity was compromised. At least, it is certain, that after 
the plenipotentiaries had drunk a bottle of brandy in 
single drams, which seemed to have no more effect 
upon such seasoned vessels, than if it had been poured 
upon the two bears at the top of the avenue, Evan Dhu 
Maccombich having possessed himself of all the infor- 
mation which he could procure respecting; the robbery 
of the preceding night, declared his intention to set off 
immediately in pursuit of the cattle, which he pronoun- 
ced to be “ no that far off ; — they have broken the 


WAVr.TlLET. 


J 13 * 

bone,” he observed, “ but they have had no time to* suck 
the marrow.” 

Our hero, who had attended Evan Dhu during his 
perquisitions, was much* struck with the ingenuity which 
he displayed in collecting information, and the precise 
and pointed conclusions which he drew from it. Evan 
Dim, on his part, was obviously flattered with the at- 
tention of VVaverley, the interest he seemed to take in 
his inquiries, and his curiosity about the customs and 
scenery of the Highlands. Without much ceremony he 
invited Edward to accompany him on a short walk of 
ten or fifteen miles into the mountains, and see the 
place w’here the cattle were conveyed to ; adding, “If 
it be as I suppose, you never saw such a place in your 
life, nor ever will, -unless you go with me or the like of 
me.” 

Our hero, feeling his curiosity considerably excited 
by the idea of visiting the den of a Highland Cacus, 
took, however, the precaution to inquire if his guide 
might be trusted. He was assured, that the invitation 
would on no account have been given, had there been 
the least danger, and that all he had to apprehend was 
a little fatigue ; and as Evan proposed he should pass a 
day at his chieftain’s house in returning, where he would 
be sure of good accommodation and an excellent wel- 
come, there seemed nothing very formidable in the task 
he undertook. Rose, indeed, turned pale when she 
heard of it ; but her father, who loved the spirited cu- 
riosity of his young friend, did not attempt to damp it 
by an alarm of danger which really did not exist ; and a 
knapsack, with a few necessaries, being bound on the 
shoulders of a sort of deputy gamekeeper, our hero set 
forth with a fowling-piece in his hand, accompanied by 
his new friencJ^Evan Dhu, and followed by the game- 
keeper aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the at- 
tendants of Evan, one of whom had iqion his shoulder 
a hatchet at the end of a pole, caller a^Lochaber-axe, 
niid the other n long ducking-gun. Evan, upon Ed- 

VOL. I. 


114 


WAVERLEY. 


ward’s inquiry, gav^e him to understand, that this martm. 
escoj't was by no means necessary as a guard, but mere- 
ly, as he said, drawing up and adjusting iiis j)laid with 
an air of dignity, that lie might appear decently at Tully- 
Veolan, and as Vich lan^Vohr’s foster-brother ought 
to do. “ Ah !” said he, if you Saxon Duinhe-was- 
sel (English gentleman) saw but the chiet with his tail 
on !” 

“With his tail on echoed Edward, in some sur- 
prise. 

“ Yes— that is, with all his usual followers, when he 
visits those of the same rank. There is,” he continued, 
stopping and drawing himself proudly up, while he 
counted upon his lingers the several officers of his chief’s 
retinue-; “there is his hanchman, or right-hand man ; 
then his hard^ or poet ; then his hladier, or orator, to 
make harangues to the great folks whom he visits ; then 
his gilly-more, or armour-bearer, to carry his sword, 
and target, and his gun ; then his gilly-casjliucfi, who 
carries him on his back through the sikes and brooks; 
then his gilhj-coinstrian, to lead his horse by the bridle 
in steep and diflicult paths ; then his gilly-trusharnish, 
to carry his knapsack ; and the piper and the piper’s 
man, and it may be a dozen young lads beside, that have 
no business, but are just boys of the belt, to follow the 
laird, and do his honour’s bidding.” 

“ And does your Chief regularly maintain all these 
men .^” demanded Waverley. 

“ All these .^” replied Evan ; “ ay, and many a fair 
head beside, that would not ken wdiere to lay itself, but 
for the mickle barn at Glennaquoich.” 

With similar tales of the grandeur of the chief in 
peace and war, Evan Dhu beguiled the w^ay till they 
approached more closely those huge mountains which 
Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It w'as 
towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous 
passes which afford communication between the high 
and low country ; the path, which was extremely steep 
and rugged, winded up a chasm between turn trernen- 


WAVERLEY. 


115 


dous locks, following the passage which a foaming 
stream, that brawled far below, appeared to have worn 
for itself in the course of ages. A few slanting beams 
of the sun, which was now setting, reached the water in 
its darksome bed, and showed it" partially, chafed bv a 
hundred rocks, and broken by a hundred falls. The 
descent from the path to the stream was a mere preci- 
pice, with here and there a projecting fragment of gran- 
ite, or a scathed tree, which had warped its twisted 
roots into the fissures of the rock. On the right hand, 
the mountain rose above the path with almost equal in- 
accessibility ; but the hill on the opposite side displayed 
a shroud of copsewood, with which some pines were in- 
termingled. 

“ This,” said Evan, “ is the pass of Bally-Brough, 
which was kept in former times by ten of the clan 
Donnochie against a hundred of the T.iOw Country carles. 
The graves of the slain are still to be seen in that little 
corri, or bottom, on the opposite side of the burn — if 
your eyes are good, you may see the green specks 
among the heather. — See, there is an earn, which you 
southrons call an eagle — ^>'Ou have no such birds as 
that in England — he is going to fetch his supper from 
the laird of Bradvvardine’s braes, but I’ll send a slug 
after him.” 

He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the superb 
monarch of the feathered tribes, who, without noticing 
the attempt to annoy him, continued his majestic flight 
to the southward. A thousand birds of prey, hawks, 
kites, carrion-crows, and ravens, disturbed from the 
lodgings which they had just taken up for the evening, 
rose at the report of the gun, and mingled their hoarse 
and discordant notes with the echoes which replied to 
It, and with the roar of the mountain cataracts. Evan, 
a little disconcerted at having missed his mark, wfien he 
meant to have displayed peculiar dexterity, covered his 
confusion by whistling part of a pibroch as he reloaded 
his piece, and proceeded in silence up the pass. 

S 


WAVEIILEY. 


i aC 


It issued in a narrow glen, between two mountains, 
both very lofty and covered with heath. The brook 
continued to he their companion, and they advanced up 
its mazes, crossing them now and then, on which occa- 
sions Evan Dhu uniformly offered the assistance of his 
attendants to carry over Edward ; but our hero, who 
had been always a tolerable pedestrian, declined the ac- 
commodation, and obviously rose in his guide’s opinion, 
by showing that he did not fear wetting his feet. In- 
deed he was anxious, so far as he could without affec- 
tation, to remove the opinion which Evan seemed to 
entertain of the effeminacy of the Lowlariders, and par- 
ticularly of the English. 

Through the gorge of this glen they found access to 
a black bog, of tremendous extent, full of large pit- 
holes, which they traversed with great difficulty and some 
danger, by tracks which no one but a Highlander could 
have followed. The path itself, or rather the portion 
of more solid ground on which the travellers half walk- 
ed, half waded, was rough, broken, and in many places 
quaggy and unsound. Sometimes the ground was so 
completely unsafe, that it. was necessary to spring from 
one hillock to another, the space between being incapa- 
ble of bearing the human weight. This was an easy 
matter to the Highlanders, who wore thin-soled brogues 
fit for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar springing 
step ; but Edward began to find the exercise, to which 
he was unaccustomed, more fatiguing than he expected. 
The lingering twilight served to show thqm through this 
Serbonian hog, but deserted them almost totally at the 
bottom of a steep and very stony hill, which it was the 
travellers’ next toilsome task to ascend. The night, 
however, was pleasant, and not dark ; and Waverley, 
calling up mental energy to support personal fatigue, 
held on his march gallantly, though envying in his heart 
his Highland attendants, who continued, without a symp- 
tom of abated vigour, the rapid and swinging pace, or 
rather trot, which, according to his computation, had al- 
ready brought them fifteen miles upon their journey. 


WAVERLEY. 


117 


After crossing this mountain, ana descending on the 
other side towards a thick wood, Evan Dhu held some 
conference with his Highland attendants, in consequence 
of which Edward’s baggage was shifted from the shoul- 
ders of the game-keeper to thoseof one of the gillies^ 
and the former was sent off with the other mountaineer 
in a direction different from that of the three remaining 
travellers. On asking the meaning of this separation, 
Waverley was told that the Lowlander must go to a 
hamlet about three miles off for the night ; for unless it 
was some very particular friend, Donald Bean Lean, the 
worthy person whom they supposed to be possessed of 
the cattle, did not much approve of strangers approaching 
his retreat. This seemed reasonable, and silenced a 
qualm of suspicion which came across Edward’s mind, 
when he saw himself, at such a place and such an hour, 
deprived of his only Lowland companion. And Evan 
immediately afterwards added, “ that indeed he himself 
had better get forward, and announce their approach to 
Donald Bean Lean, as the arrival of a sidier roy, (red 
soldier) might otherwise be a disagreeable surprise.” 
And without waiting for an answer, in jockey phrase, he 
trotted out, and putting himself to a very round pace, 
was out of sight in an instant. 

Waverley was now left to his own meditations, for his 
attendant with the battle-axe spoke very little English. 
They were traversing a thick, and as it seemed, an end- 
less wood of pines, and consequently the path was alto- 
gether indiscernible in the murky darkness which sur- 
rounded them. The Highlander, however, seemed to 
trace it by instinct, without the hesitation of a moment, 
and Edward followed his footsteps as close as he could. 

After journeying a considerable time in silence, he 
could not help asking, “ Was it far to the end of their 
journey 

“ Ta cove was tree, four mile ; but as Duinhe-wassel 
was a wee taiglit, Donald could, tat is, might — -would— 
should send ta curragh.” 


118 


WAVE RLE Y. 


This conveyed no information. The curragh which 
was promised might be a man, a horse, a cart, or i liaise ; 
and no more could be got from the man with the battle- 
axe, but a repetition of “ Aich aye ! ta curragh.” 

But in a short time Edward began to conceive bis 
meaning, when, issuing from the wood, he found himself 
on the banks of a large river or lake, where his conduc- 
tor gave him to understand they must sit down for a little 
while. The moon, which now began to rise, showed 
obscurely the expanse of water which spread before 
them, and the shapeless and indistinct forms of mountains, 
with which it seemed to be surrounded. The cool, and 
yet mild air of the summer night, refreshed Waverley 
after his rapid and toilsome walk ; and the perfume which 
it wafted from the birch trees, bathed in the evening 
dew, was exquisitely fragrant.^s 

He had now time to give himself up to the full ro- 
mance of his situation. Here he sat on the banks of 
an unknown lake, under the guidance of a wdld native, 
whose language was unknown to him, on a visit to the 
den of some renowned out-law, a second Robin Hood, 
perhaps, or Adam o’ Gordon, and that at deep midnight, 
through scenes of difficulty and toil, separated from his 
attendant, left by his guide : — What a variety of inci- 
dents for the exercise of a romantic imagination, and 
all enhanced by the solemn feeling of uncertainty at least, 
if not of danger ! The only circumstance which assorted 
ill with the rest, was the cause of his journey — the Bar- 
on’s milk cows ! this degrading incident he kept in the 
back ground. 

While wrapt in these dreams of imagination, his com- 
panion gently touched him, and, pointing in a direction 
nearly straight across the lake, said, Yon’s ta cove.” 
A small point of light was seen to twinkle in the direc- 
tion in which he pointed, and, gradually increasing in size 
and lustre, seemed to flicker like a meteor upon the 
verge of the horizon. While Edward watched this phe- 
nomenon, the distant dash of oars was heard. The 
measured sound approached near and more near, and 


^VAVKULEY. 


119 


presently a loud whistle was heard in the same direction. 
His friend with the battle-axe immediately whistled clear 
and shrill, in reply to the signal, and a boat manned with 
four or five Highlanders, pushed for the little inlet, near 
which Edward w^as sitting. He advanced to meet them 
with his attendant, was immediately assisted into the boat 
by the officious attention of two stout mountaineers, and 
had no sooner seated himself than they resumed their 
oars, and began to row across the lake with great rapidity. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The Hold of a Highland Robber, 

The party preserved silence, interrupted only by the 
monotonous and murmured chant of a Gaelic song, 
sung in a kind of low recitative by the steersman, and 
by the dash of the oars, which the notes seemed to reg- 
ulate, as they dipped to them in cadence. The light, 
which they now approached more nearly, assumed a 
broader, redder, and more irregular splendour. It ap- 
peared plainly to be a large fire, but whether kindled 
upon an island or the main land, Edward could not de- 
termine. As he saw it, the red glaring orb seemed to 
rest on the very surface of the lake itself, and resembled 
the fiery vehicle in which the Evil Genius of an oriental 
tale traverses land and sea. They approached nearer, 
and the light of the fire sufficed to show that it was 
kindled at the bottom of a huge dark crag or rock, rising 
abruptly from the very edge of the water ; its front, 
changed by the reflection to dusky red, formed a strange, 
and even awful contrast to the banks around, which were 
from time to time faintly and partially illuminated by 
pallid moonlight. 


120 


WAVE RLE Y. 


The boat now neared the shore, and Edward could diV 
cover that this large fire, amply supplied with branches ol 
pine-wood by two figures, who, in the red reflection of its 
light, appeared like demons, was kindled in the jaws of a 
lofty cavern, into which an inlet from the lake seemed to 
advance ; and he conjectured, which was indeed true, 
that the fire had been lighted as a beacon to the boatmen 
on their return. They rowed right for the mouth of the 
cave, and then, shipping their oars, permitted the 
to enter in obedience to the impulse which it had re- 
ceived. The skiff passed the little point, or platform, 
of rock, on which the fire was blazing, and running about 
two boats’ length farther, stopped where the cavern (for 
it w^as already arched overhead,) ascended from the water 
by five or six broad ledges of rocks, so easy and regular 
that they might be termed natural steps. At this moment 
a quantity of water was suddenly flung upon the fire, 
which sunk with a hissing noise, and with it disappeared 
the light it had hitherto afforded. Four or five active 
arms lifted Waverley out of the boat, placed him on his 
feet, and almost carried him into the recesses of the 
cave. He made a few paces in darkness, guided in this 
manner ; and advancing tow^ards a hum of voices, which 
seemed to sound from the centre of the rock, at an acute 
turn Donald Bean Lean and his whole establishment 
were before his eyes. 

The interior of the cave, which here rose very high, 
was illuminated by torches made of pine-tree, which 
emitted a bright and bickering light, attended by a strong, 
though not unpleasant odour. Their light was assisted 
by the red glare of a large charcoal fire, round which 
were seated five or six armed Highlanders, wdiile others 
were indistinctly seen couched on their plaids, in the 
more remote recesses of the cavern. In one large aper- 
ture, which the robber facetiously called his science (or 
pantry,) there hung by the heels the carcasses of a 
sheep, or ew^e, and two cows lately slaughtered. The 
principal inhabitant of this singular mansion, attended by 
Evan Dim as master of the ceremonies, came forward 


WAVERLEY. . 


12J 


to meet liis guest, totally different in appearance and 
manner from what his imagination had anticipated. The 
profession which he followed — the wilderness in which 
he dwelt — the wild warrior forms that surrounded him, 
were all calculated to inspire terror. From such accom- 
paniments, Waverley prepared himself to meet a stern, 
gigantic, ferocious figure, such as Salvator would have 
chosen to be the central object of a group of banditti.^^ 

Donald Bean Lean was the very reverse of all these. 
He was thin in person and low in stature, with light 
sandy-coloured hair and small pale features, from which 
he derived his agnomen of Bean, or white ; and although 
his form was light, wmll-proportioned, and active, he ap- 
peared, on the whole, rather a diminutive and insignifi- 
cant figure. He had served in some inferior capacity in 
the French army, and in order to receive his English 
visiter in great form, and probably meaning, in his way, 
to pay him a compliment, he had laid aside the Highland 
dress for the time, to put on an old blue and red uniform, 
and a feathered hat, in which he was far from showing to 
advantage, and indeed looked so incongruous, compared 
w’ith all around him, that Waverley would have been 
tempted to laugh, had laughter been either civil or safe. 
The robber received Captain Waverley with a profusion 
of French politeness and Scottish hosj)itality, seemed 
perfectly to know his name and connexions, and to be 
particularly acquainted with his uncle’s political princi- 
ples. On these he bestowed great applause, to which 
Waverley judged it prudent to make a very general reply. 

Being placed at a convenient distance from the char' 
coal fire, the heat of wdiich the season rendered oppres- 
sive, a strapping Highland damsel placed before Waver- 
ley, Evan, and Donald Bean, three cogues, or wmoden 
vessels composed of staves and hoops, containing eana- 
ruich, a sort of strong soup^made out of a particular 
part of the inside of the beeves. After this refreshment, 
which though coarse, fatigue and hunger rendered pala- 
table, steaks, roasted on the coals, were supplied in lib- 

VOL. I. 


122 


WAVERLET. 


eral abundance, and disappeared before Evan Dhu and 
their host with a promptitude that seemed like magic, and 
astonished VV^averley, who was mucli puzzled to reconcile 
their voracity with wlrat he had heard ol the abstemious* 
ness of the Highlanders. He was ignorant that this 
abstinence was udth tlie lower ranks wholly compulsory, 
and that, like some animals of prey, those who practise 
it were usually gifted with the power of indemnifying 
themselv^es to good purpose, when chance threw plenty 
in their way. The whisky came forth in abundance to 
crown tbe cheer. The Highlanders drank it copiously 
and undiluted ; but Edward, having mixed a little with 
water, did not find it so palatable as to invite him to re- 
peat the. draught. Their host bewailed himself exceed- 
ingly that he could offer him no wine : “Had lie but 
known four-and -twenty hours before, he would have had 
some, bad it been within the circle of forty miles round 
him. But no gentleman could do more to show his 
sense of the honour of a visit from another, than to 
offer him the best cheer his house afforded. Where 
there are no bushes there can be no nuts, and the way 
of those you live with is that you must follow.” 

He went on regretting to Evan Dhu the death of an 
aged man, Donnacha an Amrigh, or Duncan with the 
Cap, “ a gifted seer,” who foretold, through the second 
sight, visiters of every description who haunted their 
dwelling, whether as friends or foes. 

“ Is not his son Malcolm taishatr (a second-sighted 
person) asked Evan. 

“ Nothing equal to his father,” replied Donald Bean, 
“ He told us the other day we were to see a great gen- 
tleman riding on a horse, and there came nobody that 
whole day but Shemus Beg, the blind harper, with his 
dog. Another time he advertised us of a wedding, and 
behold it proved a funeral ; and on the creagh, when he 
foretold to us we should bring home a hundred head of 
horned cattle, we grippit nothing but a fat Baiilie of 
Perth” 


WAVKRLKY. 


123 


From this discourse he passed to the political and 
military state of the country ; and Waverley was aston- 
ished, and even alarmed, to find a person of this des- 
cription so accurately acquainted with the strength of the 
various garrisons and regiments quartered north of the 
Tay. He even mentioned the exact number of recruits 
who had joined Waverley ’s troop from his uncle’s estate, 
and observed they were pretty men, meaning, not hand- 
some, but stout warlike fellows. He put Waverley in 
mind of one or two minute circumstances which had hap- 
pened at a general review of the regiment, which satisfi- 
ed him that the robber had been an eye-witness of it ; 
and Evan Dhu having by this time retired from the con- 
versation, and wrapped himself up in his plaid to take 
some repose, Donald asked Edward in a very significant 
manner, whether he had nothing particular to say to him. 

Waverley, surprised and somewhat startled at this 
question from such a character, answered he had no 
motive in visiting him but curiosity to see his extraordi- 
nary place of residence. Donald Bean Lean looked 
him steadily in the face for an instant, and then said, 
with a significant nod, “ You might as well have confided 
in me ; 1 am as much worthy of trust as either the Baron 
of Bradwardine or Vich Ian Vohr : — but you are equally 
welcome to my house.” 

Waverley felt an involuntary shudder creep over him 
at the mysterious language held by this outlawed and 
lawless bandit, which, in despite of his attempts to mas- 
ter it, deprived him of the power to ask the meaning ol 
his insinuations. A heath pallet, with the flowers stuck 
uppermost, had been prepared for him in a recess of tho 
cave, and here, covered with such spare plaids as could 
be mustered, he lay for some time watching the motions 
of the other inhabitants of the cavern. Small parties 
of two or three entered or left the place without any 
other ceremony than a few words in Gaelic to the prin- 
cipal outlaw, and, when he fell asleep, to a tall Highlander 
who acted as his lieutenant, and seemed to keep watch 
during his repose. Those who entered, seemed to have 


124 


WAVE RLE Y. 


returned from some excursion^ of which they reported 
the success, and went without farther ceremony to the 
larder, where cutting with tlieir dirks their rations from 
the carcasses which were there suspended, they proceed- 
ed to broil and eat them at their own pleasure and leisure. 
The liquor was under strict regulation, being served out 
either by Donald himself, his lieutenant, or the strapping 
Highland girl aforesaid, who was the only female that 
appeared. The allow^ance of whisky, however, would 
have appeared prodigal to any but Highlanders, who, 
living entirely in the open air, and in a very moist climate, 
can consume great quantities of ardent spirits without the 
usual baneful effects either upon the brain or constitu- 
tion. 

At length the fluctuating groups began to swum before 
tne eyes of our hero as they gradually closed ; nor did 
he re-open them till the morning sun was high on the 
lake without, though there was but a faint and glimmer- 
ing twilight in the recesses of Uaimh an Ri, or the King s 
cavern, as the abode of Donald Bean Lean was proudly 
denominated. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Waverley proceeds on his Journey, 

When Edward had collected his scattered recollec- 
tion, he was surprised to observe the cavern totally de- 
serted. Having arisen and put his dress in some order, 
he looked more accurately around him, but all was still 
solitary. If it had not been for the decayed brands of 
the fire, now sunk into grey ashes, and the remnants of 
the festival, consisting of bones half burned and hall 
gnawed, and an empty keg or two, there remained no 
traces of Donald and his band. When Waverley sallied 
forth to the entrance of the cave, he perceived that the 


WAVERLEY. 


125 


point of rock, on which remained the marks of last night’s 
beacon, was accessible by a small path, either natural, or 
roughly hewn in the rock, along the little inlet of water 
which ran a few yards up into tlie cavern, where, as in a 
wet-dock, the skiff which brought him there the night 
before, was still lying moored. When he reached the 
small projecting platform on which the beacon had been 
established, he would have believed his farther progress 
by land impossible, only that it was scarce probable but 
what the inhabitants of the cavern had some mode of 
issuing from it otherwise than by the lake. Accordingly, 
he soon observed three or four shelving steps, or ledges 
of rock, at the very extremity of the little platform ; 
and making use of them as a staircase, he clambered by 
their means around the projecting shoulder of the crag 
on which the cavern opened, and, descending with some 
difficulty on the other side, he gained the wild and pre- 
cipitous shores of a Highland loch, about four miles in 
length, and a mile and a half across, surrounded by heathy 
and savage mountains, on the crests of which the morn- 
ing mist was still sleeping. 

Looking back to the place from which he came, he 
could not help admiring the address which had adopted 
a retreat of such seclusion and secrecy. The rock, 
round the shoulder of which he had turned by a few im- 
perceptible notches, that barely afforded place for the 
foot, seemed, in looking back upon it, a huge precipice, 
which barred all farther passage by the shores of the 
lake in that direction. There could be no possibility, 
the breadth of the lake considered, of descrying the en- 
trance of the narrow and low-browed cave from the oth- 
er side ; so that, unless the retreat had been sought for 
with boats, or disclosed by treachery, it might be a safe 
and secret residence to its garrison so long as they were 
supplied with provisions. Having satisfied his curiosity 
m these particulars, Waverley looked around for Evan 
Dhu and his attendant, who, he rightly judged, would 
be at no great distance, whatever might have become ol 

VOL. I 


126 


WAVERJLEY. 


Donald Bean Lean and his party, whose mode of life 
was, of course, liable to sudden migrations of abode 
Accordingly, at the distance of about half a mile, he be- 
held a Highlander (Evan apparently) angling in the lake, 
with another attending him, whom, from the weapon 
which he shouldered, he recognized for his friend with 
the battle-axe. 

Much nearer to the mouth of the cave he heard the 
notes of a lively Gaelic song, guided by which, in a sunny 
recess, shaded by a glittering hirch-tree, and carpeted 
with a bank of firm white sand, he found the damsel of 
the cavern, whose lay had already reached him, busy, to 
the best of her power, in arranging to advantage a morn- 
ing repast of milk, eggs, barley-bread, fresh butter, and 
honeycomb. The poor girl had made a circuit of four 
miles that morning in search of the eggs, of the meal 
which baked her cakes, and of the other materials of tiie 
breakfast, being all delicacies which she had to beg or 
borrow from distant cottagers. The followers of Don- 
ald Bean Lean used little food except the flesh of the 
animals which they drove away from the Lowlands ; 
bread itself was a delicacy seldom thought of, because 
hard to be obtained, and all the domestic accommodations 
of milk, poultry, butter, &lc. were out of the question in 
this Scythian camp. Yet it must not be omitted, that 
although Alice had occupied a part of the morning in 
providing those accommodations for her guest which the 
cavern did not afford, she had secured time also to arrange 
her own person in her best trim. Her finery was very 
simple. A short russet-coloured jacket, and a petticoat, 
of scanty longitude, was her whole dress ; but these 
were clean, and neatly arranged. A piece of scarlet 
embroidered cloth, called the snood^ confined her hair, 
which fell over it in a profusion of rich dark curls. Tlie 
scarlet plaid, which formed part of her dress, was laid 
aside, that it might not impede her activity in attending 
the stranger. I should forget Alice’s proudest ornament, 
were 1 to omit mentioning a pair of gold ear-rings, and a 
golden rosary which her father (for she was the daughter 


WAVERLEY. 


127 


of Donald Bean Lean) had brought from France, the 
plunder probably of some battle or storm. 

Her form, though rather large for her years, was very 
well proportioned, and her demeanour had a natural and 
rustic grace, with nothing of the sheepishness of an ordi- 
nary peasant. The smiles, displaying a row of teeth of 
exquisite whiteness, and the laughing eyes, with which, 
in dumb show, she gave Waverley that morning greeting 
which she wanted English words to express, might have 
been interpreted by a coxcomb, or perhaps by a young 
soldier, who, without being such, was conscious of a 
handsome person, as meant to convey more than the 
courtesy of a hostess. Nor do I take it upon me to say 
that the little wild mountaineer would have welcomed 
any staid old gentleman advanced in life, the Baron of 
Bradvvardine, for example, with the cheerful pains which 
she bestowed upon Edward’s accommodation. She 
seemed eager to place him by the meal which she had so 
sedulously arranged, and to which she now added a few 
bunches of cranberries, gathered in an adjacent morass. 
Having had the satisfaction of seeing him seated at his 
breakfast, she placed herself demurely upon a stone at a 
few yards distance, and appeared to watch with great 
complacency for some opportunity of serving him. 

Evan and his attendant now returned slowly along the 
beach, the latter bearing a large salmon -trout, the pro- 
duce of the morning’s sport, together with the angling- 
rod, while Evan strolled forward with an easy, self-salis- 
fihd, and important gait towards the spot where Waverley 
was so agreeably employed at the breakfast-tabte. After 
morning greetings had passed on both sides, and Evan, 
looking at \Vaverley, had said something in Gaelic to 
Alice, which made her laugh, yet colour up to her eyes, 
through a complexion well embrowned by sun and wind 
Evan intimated his commands that the fish should be 
prepared for breakfast. A spark from the lock of his 
pistol produced a light, and a few withered fir branches 
were quickly in flame, and as speedily reduced to hot 
embers, on which the trout was broiled in large slices. 


128 


WAVE RLE Y. 


To crown the repast, Evan produced from the pocket of 
his short jerkin, a large scallop shell, and from under the 
folds of his ])laid, a ram’s horn full of whisky. Of 
this he took a copious dram, observing, he had already 
taken his morning with Donald Bean Lean, before his 
departure ; he offered the same cordial to Alice and to 
Edward, which they both declined. With the bounte- 
ous air of a lord, Evan then proffered the scallop to Du- 
gald Mahony, his attendant, who, without waiting to be 
asked a second time, drank it off with great gusto. 
Evan then prepared to move tow^ards the boat, inviting 
Waverley to attend him. Meanwhile, Alice had made 
up in a small basket what she thought w^orth removing, 
and dinging her plaid around her, she advanced up to 
Edw^ard, and with the utmost simplicity, taking hold of 
his hand, offered her cheek to his salute, dropping at the 
same time, her little courtesy. Evan, who was esteem- 
ed a wag among the mountain fair, advanced, as if to 
secure a similar favour ; but Alice, snatching up her 
basket, escaped up the rocky bank as fleetly as a roe, 
and, turning round and laughing, called something out to 
him in Gaelic, which he answ^ered in the same tone and 
language ; then weaving her hand to Edward, she resum- 
ed her road, and was soon lost among the thickets, 
though they continued for some time to hear her lively 
carol, as she proceeded gaily on her solitary journey. 

They now again entered the gorge of the cavern, and 
stepping into the boat, the Highlander pushed off, and, 
taking advantage of the morning breeze, hoisted a clum- 
sy sort o4 sail, while Evan assumed the helm, directing 
their course, as it appeared to Waverley, rather higher 
op the lake than tow^ards the place of his^ embarkation 
on the preceding night. As they glided along the silver 
mirror, Evan opened the conversation with a panegyrick 
upon Alice, wdio, he said, was both canny and fendy ; 
and was, 1o the boot of all that, the bell dancer of a 
strathspey in the whole strath. Edw'ard assented to her 
praises so far as he understood them, yet could not help 


WAVE RLE Y. 


129 


regretting that she was condemned to such a perilous 
and dismal life. 

“ Oich ! for that,” said Evan, ‘‘ there is ^nothing in 
Perthshire that she need want, if she ask her father to 
fetch it, unless it be too hot or too heavy.” 

“ But to be the daughter of a cattle-stealer, — a com- 
mon thief !” 

“ Common thief ! — No such thing ; Donald Bean 
Lean, never lifted less than a drove in his life.” 

“ Do you call him an uncommon thief, then .^” 

“ No — he that steals a cow from a poor widow, or a 
stirk from a cottar, is a thief ; he that lifts a drove from 
a Sassenach laird is a gentleman-drover. And, besides, 
to take a tree from the forest, a salmon from the river, a 
deer from the hill, or a cow from a Lowland strath, is 
what no Highlander need ever think shame upon.” 

“ But what can this end in, were he taken in such an 
appropriation 

“ To be sure he would die for the law, as many a 
pretty man has done before him.” 

“ Die for the law !” 

“ Ay ; that is, with the law, or by the law ; be strap- 
ped up on the kind gallows of CriefF,^hvhere his faliier 
died, and his goodsire died, and where I hope he’ll live 
to die himsel, if he’s not shot, or slashed, in a crengh.” 

“ You hope such a death for your friend, Evan 

“ And that do I e’en ; would you have me wish him 
lo die on a bundle of wet straw in yon den of his, like a 
mangy tyke .^” 

“ But what becomes of Alice, then ?” • 

“ Troth, if such an accident were to happen, as her 
father would not need her help ony langer, I ken nought 
to hinder me to marry her mysel.” 

“ Gallantly resolved,” said Edward ; — “ but, in the 
meanwhile, Evan, what has your father-in-law (that shall 
be, if he have the good fortune to be hanged) done with 
the Baron’s cattle 

“ Oich,” answered Evan, “ they were all trudging 
before your lad and Allan Kennedy before the sun blink- 


ISO 


WAVEULKY. 


ed ovei Ben-Lawers this morning ; and they’ll be in the 
pass of Bally-Brough by this time, in tiieir way back to 
the parks of Tully-Veolan, all but two, that were unhap- 
pily slaughtered before I got last nightXo Uaimh an Ri.’ 

‘‘ And where are we going, Evan, if I may be so bold 
as to ask f” said Waverley. 

“ Where would you be ganging, but to the laird’s ain 
house of Glennaquoich ? Ye would not think to be in 
his country, without ganging to see him ? It would be as 
much as a man’s life’s worth.” 

“ And are we far from Glennaquoich ?” 

“ But five bits of miles ; and Vich Ian Vohr will 
meet us.” 

In about half an hour they reached the upper end of 
the lake, where, after landing Waverley, the two High- 
landers drew the boat into a little creek among thick 
flags and reeds, where it lay perfectly concealed. The 
oars they put in another place of concealment, both for 
the use of Donald Bean Lean probably, when his occa- 
sions should next bring him to that place. 

The travellers followed for some time a delightful open- 
ing into the hills, down which a little brook found its way 
to the lake. When they had pursued their walk a short 
distance, Waverley renewed his questions about their 
host of the cavern. 

“ Does he always reside in that cave 

“ Out, no ! it’s past the skill of man to tell where he’s 
to be found at a’ times : there’s not a dern nook, or cove, 
or corri, in the whole country, that he’s not acquainted 
with.” * 

“ And do others beside your master shelter him 

“ My master ? — My master is in Heaven,” answered 
Evan, haughtily ; and then immediately resuming his 
usual civility of manner, “ but you mean my chief ; no, 
he does not shelter Donald Bean Lean, nor any that 
are like him ; he only allows him (with a smile) wood 
and water.” 

‘‘ No great boon, I should think, Evan, when both 
seem to be very plenty.” 


>VAVERLEY. 


131 


“ Ah ! but ye dlnna see through it. When 1 say 
wood*and water, I mean the loch and the land ; and 1 
fancy Donald would be put till’t if the laird were to look 
for him wi’ three-score men in the wood of Kailychal 
yonder ; and if our boats, with a score or twa mair, were 
to come down the loch to Uaimh an Ri, headed by mysel 
or ony other pretty man.” 

“ But suppose a strong party came against him from 
the Low Country, would not your chief defend him r' 

“ Na, he would not ware the spark of a flint for him 
— if they came with the law.” 

“ And what must Donald do, then ?” 

“ He behoved to rid this country of himsel, and fall 
back, it may be, over the mount upon Letter Scriven.” 

“ And if he were pursued to that place .^” 

“ I’se warrant he would go to his cousin’s at Rannoch.” 

“ Well, but if they followed him to Rannoch F” 
That,” quoth Evan, “ is beyond all belief ; and, in- 
deed, to tell you the truth, there durst not a Lowlander 
in all Scotland follow the fray a gun-shot beyond Bally- 
Brough, unless he had the help of the Sidier Dhu” 

“ Whom do you call so .^” 

“ The Sidier Dhu ? the black soldier ; that is what 
they called the independent companies that were raised 
to keep peace and law in the Highlands. Vich Ian Vohr 
commanded one of them for five years, and I was a ser- 
jeant myself, I shall warrant ye. They call them Sidier 
Dhu, because they wear the tartans, as they call your men 
— King George’s men , — Sidier Roy, or red soldiers.” 

“ Well, but when you were in King George’s pay, 
Evan, you were surely King George’s soldiers 

“ Troth, and you must ask Vich Ian Vohr about that ; 
for we are for his king, and care not much which o’ them 
It is. At ony rate, nobody can say we are King George’s 
men now, when we have not seen his pay this twelve- 
month.” 

This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Ed- 
ward attempt any : he rather chose to bring back the 


132 


>vavkrlky. 


discourse to Donald Bean Lean. “ Does Donald con- 
fine himself to cattle, or does he lift, as you call it, any 
thing else that comes in his way 

“ Troth, he’s nae nice body, and he’ll just tak ony 
thing, but most readily cattle, horse, or live Christians ; 
for sheep are slow of travel, and inside plenishing is cum- 
brous to carry, and not easy to put away for siller in this 
country.” 

“ But does he carry off men and wmmen 

“ Out, aye. Did not ye hear him speak o’ the Perth 
Baillie It cost that body five hundred merks ere he got 
to the south o’ Bally-Brough. — And ance Donald play- 
ed a pretty sport.^^ There was to be a blythe bridal be- 
tween the lady Cramfeezer, in the howe o’ the Mearns, 
(she was the auld laird’s widow, and no sae young as she 
had been hersel,) and young Gilliewhackit, who had 
spent his heirship and movables, like a gentleman, at 
cock-matches, bull-baitings, horse-races, and the like. 
Now, Donald Bean Lean, being aware that the bride- 
groom was in request, and wanting to cleik the cunzie, 
(that is, to hook the siller,) he cannily carried off Gillie- 
whackit ae night when he was riding dovering hame, 
(wi’ the malt rather abune the meal,) and with the help 
of his gillies he gat him into the hills with the speed of 
light, and the first place he wakened in was the cove of 
IJaimh an Ri. So there was old to do about ransoming 
the bridegroom ; for Donald would not lower a farthing 
of a thousand pounds” 

» The devil !” 

‘‘ Funds Scottish, ye shall understand. And the lady 
had not the siller if she had pawned her gown ; and 
they applied to the governor o’ Stirling-castle, and to the 
major o’ the Black Watch ; and the governor said, it was 
ower far to the northward, and out of his district ; and 
the major said, his men w^ere gane hame to the shearing, 
and he would not call them out before the victual was 
got in for all the Cramfeezers in Christendom, let alane 
the Mearns, for that it would prejudice the country. And 
in the mean while ye’ll no hinder Gilliewhackit to take 


WAVERLEY. 


133 


the small-pox There was not the doctor in Perth (»r 
Stirling would look near the poor lad, and I cannot blame 
them ; for Donald had been misguggled by ane of these 
doctors about Paris, and he swore he would fling tire 
first into the loch that he catched beyond the Pass. 
However, some cailliachs (that is, old women,) tliat were 
about Donald’s hand, nursed Gilliewhackii sae wee), that 
between the free open air in the cove and the fresh whey, 
deil an’ he did not recover may be as weel as if he had 
been closed in a glazed chamber and a bed with curtains, 
and fed with red wine and white meat. And Donald was 
sae vexed about it, that when he was stout and weel, he 
even sent him free home, and said he would be pleased 
with ony thing they would like to gie him for the plague 
and trouble which he had about Gilliewhackit to an un- 
kenn’d degree. And I cannot tell you precisely how 
they sorted ; but they agreed sae right that Donald was 
invited to dance at the wedding in his Highland trews, 
and they said that there was never sae rneikle siller clink- 
ed in his purse either before or since. And to the boot 
of all that, Gilliewhackit said, that, be the evidence what 
it liked, if he had the luck to be on Donald’s incjuest, he 
would bring him in guilty of nothing whatever, unless it 
were wilful arson, or murder under trust.” 

With such bald and disjointed chat Evan went on illus- 
trating the existing state of the Highlands, more perhaps 
to the amusement of Waverley than that of our readers. 
At length, after having marched over bank and brae, 
moss and heather, Edward, though not unacquainted with 
the Scottish liberality in computing distance, began to 
think that Evan’s five miles were nearly doubled. His 
observation on the large measure which the Scottish al- 
lowed of their land, in comparison to the computation of 
dieir money, was readily answered by Evan, with the 
old jest, “ The de’il take them wha have the least pint 
stoup.”^ 

And now the report of a gun was heard, and a sports- 
man was se^*!!, with his dogs and attendant, at the upper 
vor.. I. 


134 


WAVE RLE Y. 


end of the glen. “ Shough,” said Dugald Mahony, 
“ tat’s ta Chief.” 

“ It is not,” said Evan, imperiously. “ Do you think 
he would come to meet a Sassenach duinhe-wassel, 
in such a way as that 

But as they approached a little nearer, he said, with 
an appearance of mortification, ‘‘ And it is even he sure 
enough, and he has not his tail on after all ; — there is no 
living creature with him but Callum Beg.” 

In fact, Fergus Mac-Ivor, of whom a Frenchman might 
have said, as truly as of any man in the Highlands, 

‘ Qw’fY connoit hien ses gens,^ had no idea of raising him- 
self in the eyes of an English young man of fortune, by 
appearing wfith a retinue of idle Highlanders dispropor- 
tioned to the occasion. He was well aware that such an 
unnecessary attendance would seem to Edward rather 
ludicrous than respectable ; and while few men were 
more attached to ideas of chieftainship and feudal power, 
he was, for that very reason, cautious of exhibiting ex- 
ternal marks of dignity, unless at the time and in the 
manner wdien they were most likely to produce an im- 
posing effect. Therefore, although, had he been to re- 
ceive a brother chieftain, he would probably have been 
attended by all that retinue which Evan had described 
with so much unction, he judged it more respectable to 
advance to meet Waverley with a single attendant, a very 
handsome Highland boy, who carried his master’s shoot- 
ing-pouch and his broad-sword, without which he seldom 
went abroad. 

When Fergus and Waverley met, the latter Avas struck 
with the peculiar grace and dignity of the chieftain’s 
figure. Above the middle size, and finely proportioned, 
the Highland dress, which he wore in its simplest mode, 
set off his person to great advantage. He wore the trews 
or close trowsers, made of tartan, checqued scarlet and 
white ; in other particulars, his dress strictly resembled 
Evan’s, excepting that he had no weapon save a dirk 
very richly mounted with silver. His page, as we have 
said, carried his claymore ; and the fowling-piece, which 


WAVERLEY. 


135 


he held in his hand, seemed only designed for sport 
He had shot in tlie course of his walk some young wild- 
ducks, as, though close-time was then unknown, the broods 
of grouse were yet too young for the sportsman. His 
countenance was decidedly Scottish, with all the pecu- 
liarities of the northern physiognomy, but had yet so 
little of its harshness and exaggeration, that it would have 
been pronounced in any country extremely handsome. 
The martial air of the bonnet, with a single eagle’s feather 
as a distinction, added much to the manly appearance of 
his head, which was besides ornamented with a far more 
natural and graceful cluster of close black curls than 
ever were exposed to sale in Bond-Street. 

An air of openness and affability increased the favour- 
able impression derived from this handsome and dignifi- 
ed exterior. Yet a skilful physiognomist would have 
been less satisfied with the countenance on the second 
than on the first view. The eye-brow and upper lip 
bespoke something of the habit of peremptory command 
and decisive superiority. Even his courtesy, though 
open, frank, and unconstrained, seemed to indicate a 
sense of personal importance ; and upon any check or 
accidental excitation, a sudden, though transient lour of 
the eye, showed a hasty, haughty, and vindictive temper, 
not less to be dreaded because it seemed much under 
its owner’s command. In short, the countenance of 
the chieftain resembled a smiling summer’s day, in which, 
notwithstanding, we are made sensible by certain, though 
slight signs, that it may thunder and lighten before the 
close of evening. 

It was not, however, upon their first meeting that Ed- 
ward had an opportunity of making these less favourable 
remarks. The Chief received him as a friend of the 
Baron of Bradwardine, with the utmost expression of 
kindness and obligation for the visit ; upbraided him 
gently with choosing so rude an abode as he had done the 
night before ; and entered into a lively conversation with 
him about Donald Bean’s housekeeping, but without the 
least hint as to his predatory habits, or the immediate 


136 


WAVERLEY. 


occasion of Waverley’s visit, a topic which, as the Chief 
did not introduce it, our hero also avoided. While they 
walked merrily on towards the house of Glennaquoich 
Evan, who now fell respectfully into the rear, followed 
with Callum Beg and Dugald Mahony. 

We shall take the opportunity to introduce the reader 
to some particulars of Fergus Mac-Ivor’s character and 
history, which were not completely known to Waverley 
till after a connection, which, though arising from a cir- 
cumstance so casual, had for a length of time the deep- 
est influence upon his character, actions, and prospects. 
But this being an important subject, must form the com- 
mencement of a new chapter. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The Chief and his Mansion. 

The ingenious licentiate Francisco de Ubeda, when 
he commenced his history of La Picara Justina Diez, 
— which, by the way, is one of the most rare books of 
Spanish literature, — complained of his pen having caught 
up a hair^ and forthwith begins, with more eloquence 
than common sense, an affectionate expostulation with 
that useful implement, upbraiding it with being the quill 
of a goose, — a bird inconstant by nature, as frequenting 
the three elements of water, earth, and air, indifferently, 
and being, of course, “to one thing constant never.” 
Now I protest to thee, gentle reader, that I entirely 
dissent from Francisco de Ubeda in this matter, and 
hold it the most useful quality of my pen, that it can 
speedily change from grave to gay, and from descrip- 
tion and dialogue to narrative and character. So that 
if my quill display no other properties of its mother- 
goose than her mutability, truly 1 shall be well pleased ; 


WAVJERLET. 


137 


nnd 1 conceive that you, my worthy friend, will have no 
occasion for discontent. From the jargon, therefore 
of the Highland gillies, I pass to the character of theii 
chief. It is an important examination, and therefore, 
like Dogberry, we must spare no wisdom. 

The ancestor of Fergus Mac-Ivor, about three cen- 
turies before, had set up a claim to be recognized as 
chieftain of the numerous and powerful clan to which 
he belonged, the name of which it is unnecessary to 
mention. Being defeated by an opponent who had more 
justice, or at least more force, on his side, he moved 
southwards, with those who adhered to him, in quest of 
new settlements, like a second jEneas. The state of 
the Perthshire Highlands favoured his purpose. A great 
Baron in that country had lately become traitor to the 
crown ; fan, which was the name of our adventurer, 
united himself with those who were commissioned by 
the King to chastise him, and did such good service 
that he obtained a grant of the property, upon which 
he and his posterity afterwards resided. He followed 
the King also in war to the fertile regions of England, 
where he employed his leisure hours so actively in 
raising subsidies among the boors* of Northumberland 
and Durham, that upon his return he was enabled to 
erect a stone tower, or fortalice, so much admired by 
his dependants and neighbours, that he, who had hith- 
erto been called Ian Mac-Ivor, or John the son of Ivor, 
was thereafter distinguished, both in song and genealo- 
gy, by the high title of Ian nan Chaistel, or John of the 
Tower. The descendants of this worthy were so proud 
of him, that the reigning chief always bore the patro- 
nymic title of Vich Ian Vohr, {. e. the son of John the 
Great ; while ihe clan at large, to distinguish them from 
that fiom which they had seceded, were denominated 
Sllochd nan Ivor, the race of Ivor. 

The father of Fergus, the tenth in direct descent from 
John of the Tower, engaged heart and hand in the in- 
surrection of 1715, and was forced to dy to France, 
vor.. \. 


138 


WAVERLEY. 


after tne attempt of that year in favour of the Stuarts 
had j)roved unsuccessful. More fortunate than other 
fugitives, he obtained employment in the French service, 
and married a lady of rank in that kingdom, by whom 
he had two children, Fergus and his sister Flora. The 
Scottish estate had been forfeited and exposed to sale, 
but was repurchased for a small price in the name of 
the young proprietor, who in consequence came to re- 
side upon his native domains.^ It was soon perceived 
that he possessed a character of uncommon acuteness, 
fire, and ambition, which, as he became acquainted with 
the state of the country, gradually assumed a mixed and 
peculiar tone, that could only have been acquired Sixty 
Years Since. 

Had Fergus Mac-Ivor lived Sixty Years sooner than 
he did, he would, in all probability, have wanted the 
polished manner and knowledge of the world which he 
now jiossessed ; and had he lived Sixty Years later, his 
ambition and love of rule would have lacked the fuel 
which his situation now afforded. He was indeed, with- 
in his little circle, as perfect a politician as Castruccio 
Castrucani himself. He applied himself with great 
earnestness to appease all the feuds and dissensions 
which often arose among other clans in his neigh- 
bourhood, so that he became a frequent umpire in their 
quarrels. His own patriarchal power he strengthened 
at every expense which his fortune would permit, and 
indeed stretched his means to the uttermost to maintain 
the rude and plentiful hospitality, which was the most 
valued attribute of. a chieftain. For the same reason, 
he crowded his estate with a tenantry, hardy indeed, and 
fit for the purposes of war, but greatly outnumbering 
what the soil was calculated to maintain. These con- 
sisted chiefly of his own clan, not one of whom he suf- 
fered to quit his lands if he could possibly prevent it 
But he maintained, besides, many adventurers from the 
mother sept, who deserted a less warlike, though more 
wealthy chief, to do homage to Fergus Mac-Ivor. Othei 
individuals, too, who had not even that apology, were 


WAVEKLEY. 


139 


nevertheless received into his allegiance, which indeed 
was relused to none who were, like Poins, proper men 
of their hands, and were willing to assume the name of 
I\lac-lvor. 

He was enabled to discipline these forces from having 
obtained command of one of the independent companies, 
raised by government to preserve the peace of the 
Highlands. While in this capacity he acted with vigour 
and spirit, and preserved great order in the country un- 
der his charge. He caused his vassals to enter by ro- 
tation into hiscompany, and serve for a certain space of 
lime, which gave them all in turn a general notion of 
military discipline. In his campaigns against the bandit- 
ti, it was observed that he assumed and exercised to 
the utmost the discretionary power, which, while the 
law had no free course in the Highlands, was conceived 
to belong to the military parties who were called in to 
support it. He acted, for example, with great and sus- 
picious lenity to those freebooters who made restitution 
on his summons, and offered personal submission to him- 
self, while he rigorously pursued, apprehended, and 
sacrificed to justice, all such interlopers as dared to de- 
spise his admonitions or commands. On the other hand, 
if any officers of justice, military parties, or others, pre- 
sumed to pursue thieves or marauders through his ter- 
ritories, and without applying for his consent and concur- 
rence, nothing was nTore certain than that they would 
meet with some notable foil or defeat ; upon which oc- 
casions Fergus Mac-Ivor was the first to condole wfith 
them, and, after gently blaming their rashness, never 
failed deeply to lament the lawdess state of the country. 
These lamentations did not exclude suspicion, and mat- 
ters were so represented to government, that our chief- 
tain w'as deprived of his military command.^^ 

Whatever Fergus IMac-Ivor felt on this occasion, he 
had the art of entirely suppressing every appearance of dis- 
content ; but in a short time the neighbouring country began 
tO feel bad effects from his disgrace. Donald Bean [^ean, 
and others of his class, whose depredations had hitherto 
9 


140 


WAVKRLEY. 


been confined to other districts, appeared from thence- 
forward to hav’’e made a setllement on this devoted bor- 
der ; and their ravages were carried on with little oppo- 
sition, as the Lowland gentry were chiefly Jacobites, and 
disarmed. This forced many of the inhabitants into 
contracts of black-mail with Fergus jVlac-ivor, which not 
only established him their protector, and gave him great 
weight in all their consultations, but moreover supplied 
funds for the waste of his feudal hospitality, which the 
discontinuance of his pay might have otherwise essen- 
tially diminished. 

In following this course of conduct, Fergus had a 
further object than merely being the great man of his 
neighbourhood, and ruling despotically over a small clan. 
From his infancy upward, he had devoted himself to the 
cause of the exiled family, and had persuaded himself, 
not oidy that their restoration to the crown of Britain 
would be speedy, but that those who assisted them would 
De raised to honour and rank. It was with this view 
that he laboured to reconcile the Highlanders among 
themselves, and augmented his own force to the utmost, 
to be prepared for the first favourable opportunity of 
rising. With this purpose also he conciliated the fa- 
vour of such Lowland gentlemen in the vicinity as were 
friends to the good cause ; and for the same reason, 
having incautiously quarrelled with Mr. Bradwardine, 
who, notwithstanding his peculiarities, was much respect- 
ed in the country, he took advantage of the foray of 
Donald Bean Lean to solder up the dispute in the man- 
ner we have mentioned. Some indeed surmised that 
he caused the enterprize to be suggested to Donald, on 
purpose to pave the way to a reconciliation, which, sup- 
posing that to be the case, cost the Laird of Bradwar- 
dine two good milch cows. This zeal in their behalf 
the house of Stuart repaid with a considerable share of 
their confidence, an occasional supply of louis d’ors, 
abundance of fair words, and a parchment with a huge 
waxen seal appended, purporting to be an earl’s patent, 
granted by no less a person than James the Third King 


WAVERLKY. 


141 


of England, and Eighth King of Scotland, to his right 
feal, trusty, and well-beloved Fergus Mac-1 vor of Glen- 
naquoich, in the county of Perth, and kingdom of 
S'cotland. 

With this future coronet glittering before his eyes, Fer- 
gus plunged deeply into the correspondence and plots of 
that unhappy period ; and, like all such active agents, 
easily reconciled his conscience to going certain lengths 
in the service of his party, from which honour and pride 
would have deterred him, had his sole object been the 
direct advancement of his own personal interest. With 
this insight into a bold, ambitious, and ardent, yet artful 
and politic character, we resume the broken thread of 
our narrative. 

The Cliief and his guest had by this time reached the 
house of Glennaquoich, which consisted of Ian nan 
Chaislei’s mansion, a high rude-looking square tower, 
with the addition of a lofted house, that is, a building of 
two stories, constructed by Fergus’s grandfather when 
he returned from that memorable expedition, well re- 
membered by the western shires, under the name of the 
Highland Host. Upon occasion of this crusade against 
the Ayrshire whigs and covenanters, the Vich Ian Vohr 
of the time had probably been as successful as his pre- 
decessor was in harrying Northumberland, and therefore 
left to his posterity a rival edifice, as a monument of his 
magnificence. 

Around the house, which stood on an eminence in the 
midst of a narrow Highland valley, there appeared none 
of that attention to convenience, far less to ornament 
and decoration, which usually surrounds a gentleman’s 
habitation. An inclosure or two, divided by dry-stone 
walls, were the only part of the domain that was fenced ; 
as to the rest, the narrow slips of level ground which 
lay by the side of the brook, exhibited a scanty crop of 
barley, liable to constant depredations from the herds of 
wild ponies and black cattle that grazed upon the ad- 
jacent hills. These ever and anon made an incursion 
upon the arable ground, which was repelled by the 


142 


WAVERLEY. 


loud, uncouth, and dissonant sliouts of half a dozen 
Highland swains, all running as if they had been mad, 
and every one hallooing a half-starved dog to the rescue 
of the forage. At a little distance up the glen was* a 
small and stunted wood of birch ; the hills were high 
and heathy, but without any variety of surface ; so that 
the whole view was wild and desolate, rather than grand 
and solitary. Yet such as it was, no genuine descendant 
of Ian nan Chaistel would have changed the domain for 
Stow or Blenheim. 

There was a sight, however, before the gate, which 
perhaps would have afforded the first owner of Blen- 
heim more pleasure than the finest view in the domain 
assigned to him by tl^e gratitude of his country. This 
consisted of about a hundred Highlanders, in complete 
dress and arms ; at sight of whom the chieftain apolo- 
gized to Waverley in a sort of negligent manner. “ He 
had forgot,” he said, “ that he had ordered a few of 
his clan out, for the purpose of seeing that they were 
in a fit condition to protect the country, and prevent 
such accidents as, he was sorry to learn, had befallen 
the Baron of Bradwardine. Before they were dismis- 
sed, perhaps Captain Waverley might choose to see them 
go through a part of their exercise.” 

Edward assented, and the men executed with agility 
and precision some of the ordinary military movements. 
They then practised individually at a mark, and showed 
extraordinary dexterity in the management of the pistol 
and firelock. They took aim standing, sitting, leaning, 
or lying prostrate, as they were commanded, and al- 
ways with effect upon the target. Next,they paired off 
for the broad-sword exercise ; and, having manifested 
their individual skill and dexterity, united in two bodies, 
and exhibited a sort of mock encounter, in which the 
charge, the rally, the flight, the pursuit, and all the 
current of a heady fight, were exhibited to the sound of 
the great war bagpipe. 

On a signal made by the Chief, the skirmish was 
ended. Matches w^re then made for running, wrest- 


MAVERLET. 


143 


}ing, leaping, pitching the bar, and other sports, in which 
this feudal militia displayed incredible swiftness, strength, 
and agility ; and accomplished the purpose which their 
chieftain had at heart, by impressing on Waverley no 
light sense of their merit as soldiers, and of the power 
of him who commanded them by his nod.^^ 

“ And what number of such gallant fellows have the 
happiness to call you leader ?” asked Waverley. 

‘‘ In a good cause, and under a chieftain whom they 
loved, the race of Ivor have seldom taken the field un- 
der five hundred claymores. But you are aware, Cap- 
tain Waverley, that the disarming act, passed about 
twenty years ago, prevents their being in the complete 
state of preparation, as in former times ; and I keep no 
more of my clan under arms than may defend my own 
or my friends’ property, when the country is troubled 
with such men as your last night’s landlord ; and gov- 
ernment, which has removed other means of defence, 
must connive at our protecting ourselves. 

‘‘ But with your force you might soon destroy, or put 
down, such gangs as that of Donald Bean Lean.” 's 

“ Yes, doubtless ; and my reward would be a sum- 
mons to deliver up to G^^neral Blakeney, at Stirling, 
the few broad-swords they have left us : there were little 
policy in that, methinks. — But come, Ca^ptain, the sound 
of the pipes informs me that dinner is prepared — Let 
me have the honour to show you into my rude man-* 
Sion.” ' 


114 


WAVEULEY* 


CHAPTER XX. 

A Highland Feast. 

Ere Waverley entered the banquetting-ball, he was 
offered the patriarchal refreshment of a bath for the 
feet, which the sultry weather, and the morasses he had 
traversed, rendered highly acceptable. He was not in- 
deed so luxuriously attended upon this occasion, as the 
heroic travellers in the Odyssey ; the task of ablution 
and abstersion being performed, not by a beautiful dam- 
sel, trained 

To chafe the limb, and pour the fra^anl oil, 

but by a smoke-dried skinny old Highland woman, who 
did not seem to think herself much honoured by the 
duty imposed upon her, but muttered between her teeth, 

Otir fatlicrs’ herds did not feed so near together, that 
1 should do you this service.” A small donation, how- 
ever, amply reconciled this ancient handmaiden to the 
supposed degradation ; and, as Edward proceeded to 
the hall, she gave him her blessing, in the Gaelic prov- 
erb, “ May the open hand be filled the fullest.” 

The hall, in -which the feast was prepared, occupied 
all the first story of Ian nan Chaistel’s original erection, 
and a huge oaken table extended through its whole 
length. The apparatus for dinner was simple, even to 
rudeness, and the company numerous, even to crowding. 
At the head of the table w^as the Chief himself, with Ed- 
ward, and two or three Highland visiters of neighbour- 
ing clans ; the elders of his own tribe, wadsetters and 
tacksmen, as they were called, who occupied portions 
of his estate as mortgagers or lessees, sai next in rank ; 
beneath them, their sons and nephews, and foster- 
brethren ; then the officers of the Chief’s household, 


AVAVKRLEY- 


145 


according to their order; and, lowest of all, the tenants 
who actually cultivated the ground. Even beyond this 
long perspective, Edward might see upon the green, to 
which a huge pair of folding doors opened, a multitude 
of Higldanders of a yet inferior description, who, nev- 
(^Trtheless, were considered as guests, and had their 
share both of the countenance of the entertainer, and of 
the cheer of the day. In the distance, and fluctuating 
round this extreme verge of the banquet, was a change- 
tul group of women, ragged boys and girls, beggars, 
young and old, large greyhounds, and terriers, and 
pointers, and curs of low degree ; all of whom took 
some interest, more or less immediate, in the main action 
of the piece. 

This hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its 
line of economy. Some pains had been bestowed in 
dressing the dishes of fish, game, &lc., which were at 
the upper end of the table, and immediately under the 
eye of the English stranger. Lower down stood im- 
mense clumsy joints of mutton and beef, which, but for 
the absence of porkf^abhorred in the Highlands, resem- 
bled the rude festivity of the banquet of Penelope’s 
suitors. }3ut the central dish was a yearling lamb, 
called “a hog in harst,” roasted whole. It was set 
upon its legs, with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and 
was probably exhibited in that form to gratify the pride 
of the cook, who piqued himself more on the plenty 
than the elegance of his master’s table. The sides of 
this j)oor animal were fiercely attacked by the clans- 
men, some with dirks, others with the knives which 
were usually in the same sheath with the dagger, so 
that it was soon rendered a mangled and rueful spectacle. 
Lower down still, the victuals seemed of yet coarser 
quality, though sufficiently abundant. Broth, onions, 
cheese, and the fragments of the feast, regaled the sons 
of Ivor who feasted in the open air. 

Tlie liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and 
under similar regulations. Excellent claret and cham- 
VOL. I. 


146 


WAVE RLE Y. 


pagne were liberally distributed among the Chief’s im- 
mediate neiglibours ; wiiisky, plain or diluted, and strong- 
beer, refreshed those who sat near the lower end. Nor 
did this inequality of distribution appear to give the 
least offence. Kvery one present understood that his 
taste was to be formed according to the rank which he 
held at table; and consequently the tacksmen and their 
dependants always professed the wine was too cold for 
their stomachs, and called, apparently out of choice, f(^ 
the liquor which was assigned to them from economy. 
The bagpipers, three in number, screamed, during the 
whole time of dinner, a tremendous war-tune ; and the 
echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtic 
tongue, produced such a Babel of noises, that Waverley' 
dreaded his ears would never recover it. ]\lac-lvor, 
indeeil, apologized for the confusion occasioned by so 
large a party, and pleaded the necessity of his situation, 
on which unlimited hospitality was imposed as a y)ara- 
mount duty. “ These stout idle kinsmen of mine,” he 
said, “ account my estate as held in trust for their sup- 
port ; and J must find them beef and ale, while the 
rogues will do nothing for thernselves but practise the 
broad-sword, or wander about the hills shooting, fishing, 
bunting, drinking, and ntaking love to the lasses of the 
strath. But what can 1 do, Captain Waverley.^ every 
thing will keep after its kind, whether it be a hawk or a 
Highlander.” Edward made the expected answer, in a 
compliment upon his possessing so many bold and at- 
tached followers. 

“ Why, yes,” replied the Chief, ‘‘ were I disposed, 
like my father, to put myself in the way of getting one 
blow on the head, or two on the neck, I believe the 
loons Avould stand by me. But who thinks of that in 
the present day, when the maxim is, — ‘ Better an old 
woman with a purse in her hand, than three men with 
belted brands?’” Then, turning to the company, he 
proposed the “Health of Captain Waverley, a worthy 
.‘Viend of his kind neighbour and^ ally, the Baron of 
Brudwardi le, ” 


WAVERLKY'. 


147 


“He is welcome hither,” said one of the elders, “if 
he come from Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine.” 

“ 1 say nay to that,” said an old man, who apparently 
did not mean to pledge the toast ; “ 1 say nay to that ; 

— while there is a green leaf in the forest, there will 
be fraud in a Comyne.” 

“ There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Brad- 
wardine,” answered another ancient ; “ and the guest 
that comes hither from him should be welcome, though 
he came with blood on his hand, unless it were blood of 
the race of Ivor.” 

The old man, whose cup remained full, replied, 
“ There has been blood enough of the race of Ivor on 
the hand of Bradwardine.” 

“Ah! Ballenkeirocli,” replied the first, “you think 
rather of the flash of the carbine at the Mains of Tully- 
Veolan, than the glance of the sword that fought for the 
cause at Preston.” 

“ And well 1 may,” answered Ballenkeirocli ; “ the 
flash of the gun cost me a fair-haired son, and'the glance 
of the sword has done but little for King James.” 

The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to 
Waverley, that the Baron had shot this old man’s son in 
a fray near Tully-Veolan about seven years before ; and 
then hastened to remove Ballenkeiroch’s prejudice, by 
informing him that Waverley was an Englishman uncon- 
nected by birth or alliance with the family of Bradwar- 
dine ; upon which the old gentleman raised the hitherto- 
untasted cup, and courteously drank to his health. This 
ceremony being requited in kind, the Chieftain made a 
signal for the pipes to cease, and said, aloud, “Where 
is the song hidden, my friends, that Mac-Murrough can- 
not find it 

Mac-Murrough, the family hhairdh, an aged man, im- 
mediately took the hint, and began to chant, with low 
and rapid utterance, a profusion of Celtic verses, which 
were received by the audience with all the applause of 
enthusiasm. As he advanced in his declamation, his 
ardour seemed to increase. He had at first spoken with 


14S 


WAVERLEY. 


his eyes fixed on the ground ; lie now cast them around 
as if beseecliing, and anon as il commanding, attention, 
and liis tones rose into wild and inijiassioned notes, ac- 
companied with appropriate gestures. He seemed to 
Edward, who attended to him with much interest, to 
recite many proper names, to lament llie dead, to apos- 
trophize the absent, to exhort, and efttreat, and animate 
those who were present. Waverley thought he even 
discerned his own name, and was convinced his conjec- 
ture was right, from the eyes of the company being at 
that moment turned towards him simultaneously. ^ The 
ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to 
the audience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances 
assumed a fiercer and more animated expression ; all 
bent forward towards tfie reciter, many sprung up and 
waved their arms in ecstacy, and some laid their hands 
on their swords. When the song ceased, there was a 
deep pause, while the aroused feelings of the poet 
and of the hearers gradually subsided into their usual 
channel. 

The Chieftain, who, during this scene, had appeared 
rather to watch the emotions which were excited, than 
to partake their high tone of enthusiasm, filled with 
claret a small silver cup which stood by him. “ Give 
this,” he said to an attendant, “ to Mac-iMurrough nan 
Fonn, (/. e. of the songs,) and when he has drank the 
juice bid him keep, for the sakeof Vich Ian Vohr, the shell 
of the gourd which contained it.” The gift was re- 
ceived by IMac-Murrough with profound gratitude ; he 
drank the wine, and, kissing the cup, shrouded it with 
reverence in the plaid which was folded on his bosom, 
lie then burst forth into what Edward justly supposed 
to be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks, and praises 
of his chief. It was received with applause, but did 
not produce the effect of his first poem. It was obvi- 
ous, however, that the clan regarded the generosity of 
their chieftain with high approbation. Many apfnovrd 
Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of \\1 ich *he 
Chieftain gave Ins giiest lb': following versions : — 


WAVERLRY. 


149 


To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe.” 
“ To him that never forsook a comrade.” “ To him 
dial never bought or sold justice.” “ Hospitality to the 
exile, and broken bones to the tyrant.” “ The lads 
with the kilts.” “ Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder,” 
— with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature. 

Edward was particularly solicitous to know the mean- 
ing of that song which appeared to produce such effect 
upon the passions of the company, and hinted his curi- 
osity to his host. “ As I observe,” said the Chieftain, 
“ that you have passed the bottle during the last three 
rounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to my 
sister’s tea-table, who can explain these things to you 
better than I can. Although I cannot stint my clan in 
the usual current of their festivity, yet I neither am ad- 
dicted myself to exceed in its amount, nor do 1,” added 
he, smiling, “ keep a Bear to devour the intellects of 
such as can make good use of them.” 

Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the 
Chieftain, saying a few words to those around him, left 
the table, followed by Waverley. As the door closed 
behind them, Edward heard Vich Ian Vohr’s health in- 
voked with a wild and animated cheer, that expressed 
the satisfaction of the guests, and the depth of their de- 
votion to his service. 


CHAPTER XXL 
The Chieftain's Sister, 

The drawing-room of Flora IMac-Ivor was furnished 
in the plainest and most simple manner ; for at Glenna- 
quoicli every other sort of expenditure was retrenched 
as much as possible, for the purpos<f of maintaining, in 
. 1 . 


150 


WAVERI.EY. 


its full dignity, the hospitality of the Chieftain, and re- 
taining and multiplying the number of his dependants 
and adherents. But there was no appearance of this 
parsimony in the dress of the lady herself, which was in 
texture elegant, and even rich, and arranged in a manner 
which partook partly of the Parisian fashion, and partly 
of the more simple dress of the Highlands, blended to- 
gether with great taste. Her hair was not disfigured by 
the art of the friseur, but fell in jetty ringlets on her 
neck, confined only by a circlet, richly set with diamonds. 
This peculiarity she adopted in compliance with the 
Highland prejudices, which could not endure that a 
woman’s head should be covered before wedlock. 

Flora Mac-lvor bore a most striking resemblance to 
her brother Fergus ; so much so, that they might have 
played Viola and Sebastian with the same exquisite 
effect produced by the appearance of Mrs. Henry Sid- 
dons and her brother, Mr. William Murray, in these char- 
acters. They had the same antique and regular correctness 
of profile ; the same dark eyes, eyelashes, and eyebrows ; 
the same clearness of complexion, excepting that Fergus’s 
was embrowned by exercise, and Flora’s possessed the 
utmost feminine delicacy. But the haughty, and some- 
what stern regularity of Fergus’s features was beautifully 
softened in those of Flora. Their voices were also 
similar in tone, though difiering in the key. That of 
Fergus, especially while issuing orders to his followers 
during their military exercise, reminded Edward of a 
favourite passage in the description of Emetrius : 


whose voice was heard around, 

Loud as a tiumpel with a silver sound. 

That of Flora, on the contrary, was soft and sweet, 
‘ an excellent thing in woman yet in urging anv fa * 
vourite topic, which she often pursued with natural* elo- 
quence, it possessed as well the tones which impress awe 
and conviction, as those of persuasive insinuation. The 
eager glance of the keen black eye, which, in the Chief- 


WAVE RLE Y. 


151 


tain, seemed impatient even of the m aterial obstacles il 
encountered, had, in his sister, acqu'red a gentle pen- 
siveness. His looks seemed to seek glory, power, all that 
could exalt him above others in the race of humanity; 
while those of his sister, as if she were already conscious 
of mental superiority, seemed to pity, rather than envy, 
those who were struggling for any farther distinction 
Her sentiments corresponded with the expression of her 
countenance. Early education had impressed upon her 
mind, as well as on that of the Chieftain, the most de- 
voted attachment to the exiled family of Stuart. She 
believed it the duty of her brother, of his clan, of every 
man in Britain, at whatever personal hazard, to contribute 
to that restoration which the partlzans of the Chevalier 
St. George had'not ceased to hope for. For this she 
was prepared to do all, to suffer all, to sacrifice all. But 
her loyalty, as it exceeded her brother’s in fanaticism, 
excelled it also in purity. Accustomed to petty intrigue, 
and necessarily involved in a thousand paltry and selfish 
discussions, ambitious also by nature, his political faith 
was tinctured at least, if not tainted, by the views of in- 
terest and adv^ancement so easily combined with it ; and 
at the moment he should unsheath his claymore, it might 
be difficult to say whether it would be most with the view 
of making James Stuart a king, or Fergus Mac-lvor an 
carl. This, indeed, was a mixture of feeling which he 
did not avow even to himself, but it existed, neverthe- 
less, in a powerful degree. 

In Flora’s bosom, on the contrary, the zeal of loyalty 
burnt pure and unmixed with any selfish feeling ; she 
would have as soon made religion the mask of ambitious 
and interested views, as have shrouded them under the 
opinions which she had been taught to think patriotism. 
Such instances of devotion were not uncommon among 
the followers of the unhappy race of Stuart, of which 
many memorable proofs will recur to the mind of most 
of my readers. But peculiar attention on the part of the 
Chevalier de St. George and his princess to the parents 
of Fergus and his sister, and to themselves, when orphans, 


152 


WAVERIEY. 


had rivetted their faith. Fergus, upon the death of his 
parents, had been for some time a page of honour in the 
train of the Chevalier’s lady, and, from his beauty and 
sprightly temper, was uniformly treated by her with the 
utmost distinction. This was also extended to Flora, 
who was maintained for some time at a convent of the 
first order, at the princess’s expense, and removed from 
thence into her own family, where she spent nearly two 
years. Both biother and sister retained the deepest and 
most grateful sense of her kindness. 

Having thus touched upon the leading principle of 
Flora’s character, J may dismiss the rest more slightly. 
She was highly accomplished, and had acquired those 
elegant manners to be expected from one who, in early 
youth, had been the companion of a princess ; yet she 
had not learned to substitute the gloss of politeness for 
the reality of feeling. When settled in the lonely regions 
of Glennaquoich, she found that her resources in French, 
English, and Italian literature, w^ere likely to be few and 
interrupted ; and, in order to fill up the vacant time, she 
bestowed a ])art of it upon the music and poetical tradi- 
tions of the Highlanders, and began really to feel the 
pleasure in the pursuit, which her brother, whose percep- 
tions of literary merit were more blunt, rather affected 
for the sake of popularity than actually experienced. 
Her resolution was strengthened in these researches, by 
the extreme delight which her inquiries seemed to afibrd 
those to whom she resorted for information. 

Her love of her clan, an attachment which was almost 
hereditary in her bosom, \vas, like her loyalty, a more 
pure passion than that of her brother. He was too 
thorough a politician, regarded his patriarchal influence 
too much as the means of accomplishing his own aggran- 
dizement, that we should term him the model of a High- 
land Chieftain. Flora felt the same anxiety for cherish- 
ing and extending their patriarchal sway, but it was with 
the generous desire of vindicating from poverty, or M 
least from want and foreign oppression, those whom her 
rother was by birth, according to the notions of the lime 


WAVE RLE Y. 


153 


and country, entitled to govern. The savings of her in- 
come, for she had a small pension from the Princess 
Sobieski, were dedicated, not to add to the comforts ol 
the peasantry, for that was a word which they neither 
knew nor apparently wished to know, but to relieve their 
absolute necessities, when in sickness or extreme old 
age. At every other period, they rather toiled to procure 
something which they might share with the Chief, as a 
proof of their attachment, than expected other assistance 
from him save what was afforded by the rude hospitality 
of his castle, and the general division and subdivision of 
his estate among them. Flora was so much beloved by 
them, that when ^lac-Murrough composed a song, in 
which he enumerated all the [)rincipal beauties of the 
district, and intiinated her superiority by concluding, that 
“ the fairest apple hung on the highest bough,” he re- 
ceived, in donatives from the individuals of the clan, more 
seed-barley than would have sowed his Highland Parnas- 
sus, the Bard\^ croft, as it was called, ten times over. 

From situation, as well as choice. Miss Mac-1 vor’s 
society was extremely limited. Her most intimate friend 
had been Rose Bradwardine, to whom she was much 
attached ; and when seen together, they would have af- 
forded an artist two admirable subjects for the gay and 
the melancholy muse. Indeed Rose was so tenderly 
watched by her father, and her circle of wishes was so 
limited, that none arose but what he was walling to gratify, 
and scarce any which did not come within the compass 
of his power. With Flora it was otherwise. While 
almost a girl, she had undergone the most complete 
change of scene, from gaiety and splendour to absolute 
solitude and comparative poverty ; and the ideas and 
wishes wdiich she chiefly fostered, respected great nation- 
al events, and changes not to be brought round without 
both hazard and bloodshed, and therefore not to be 
thought of with levity. Her manner consequently was 
grave, though she readily contributed her talents to the 
amusement of society, and stood very high in the opinion 
of the old Baron, who used to sing along with her such 


154 


WAVERLEY. 


French duets of Lindor and Cloris, &ic. as were in 
fashion about the end of the reign of old Louis le Grand. 

It was generally believed, though.no one durst' have 
hinted it to the Baron of Bradwardine, that Flora’s en- 
treaties had no small share in allaying the wrath of Fergus 
upon occasion of their quarrel. She took her brothel 
on the assailable side, by dwelling first upon the Baron’s 
age, and then representing the injury which the cause 
might sustain, and the damage which must arise to his 
own character in point of prudence, so necessary to a 
political agent, if he persisted in carrying it to extremity. 
Otherwise it is probable it would hav^e terminated in a 
duel, both because the Baron had on a former occasion 
shed blood of the clan^ though the matter had been timely 
accommodated, and on account of his high reputation 
for address at his weapon, which Fergus almost conde- 
scended to envy. For the same reason she had urged 
their reconciliation, which the Chieftain the more readily 
agreed to, as it favoured some ulterior projects of his 
own. 

To this young lady, now presiding at the female em- 
pire of the tea-table, Fergus introduced Captain Waver- 
ley, whom she received with the usual forms of politeness 


CHAPTER XXIT. 

Highland Minstrelsy. 

When the first salutations had passed, Fergus said to 
his sister, “ My dear Flora, before I return to the bar- 
barous ritual of our forefathers, I must tell you that Cap- 
lain Waverley is a worshipper of the Celtic muse, not 
the less so perhaps that he does not understand a word 
of her language. I have told him you are eminent as a 
translator of Highland poetry, and that Mac-Murrough 


WAVERLEY. 


155 


admires your version of his songs upon the same princi- 
ple that Captain Waverley admires the original, — be- 
cause he does not comprehend them. Will you have 
the goodness to read or recite to our guest in Eng- 
lish, the extraordinar}* string of names which Mac-Mur- 
roiigh has tacked together in Gaelic f — My life to a 
moor-fowl’s feather, you are provided with a version ; 
for 1 know you are in all the bard’s councils, and ac- 
quainted with his songs long before he rehearses them in 
the hall.” 

“ How can you say so, Fergus You know how little 
these verses can possibly interest an English stranger, 
even if I could translate them as you pretend.” 

'• Not less than they interest me, lady fair. To-day 
your joint composition, for 1 insist you had a share in it, 
has cost me the last silver cup in the castle, and 1 suppose 
will cost me something else next time 1 hold cour pleniere.^ 
if the muse descends on Mac-Murrough ; for you know 
our proverb, — When the hand of the chief ceases to 
bestow, the breath of the bard is frozen in the utterance. 
— Well, 1 would it were even so : there are three things 
that are useless to a modern Highlander, — a sword which 
he must not draw, — a bard to sing of deeds which he 
dare not imitate, — and a large goat-skin purse without a 
louis d’or to put into it.” 

“ Well, brother, since you betray my secrets, you 
cannot expect me to keep yours. — 1 assure you. Captain 
Waverley, that Fergus is too proud to exchange his broad- 
sword for a marechal’s batoon ; that he esteems Mac- 
Murrough a far greater poet than Homer, and would not 
give up his goat-skin purse for all the louis d’ors which 
it could contain.” 

“ Well pronounced. Flora ; blow for blow, as Conan 
said to the devil.^'-^ Now do you two talk of bards and 
poetry, if not of purses and claymores, while 1 return to 
do the final honours to the senators of the tribe of Ivor.” 
So saying, he left the room. 

The conversation continued between Flora and Wa- 
verley ; for two well-dressed young women, whose char- 


15G 


WAVER LEY. 


acter seemed to hover between that of companions and 
dependants, took no share in it. They were both pretty 
girls, but served only as foils to the grace and beauty of 
their patroness. The discourse followed the turn which 
the chieftain had given it, and Waverley was equally 
amused and surprised with the account which the lady 
gave him of Celtic poetry. 

“ The recitation,” she said, ‘‘ of poems, recording the 
feats of heroes, the complaints of lovers, and the wars 
of contending tribes, forms the chief amusement of a 
winter fire-side in the Highlands. Some of these are 
said to be very ancient, and if they are ever translated 
into any of the languages of civilized Europe, cannot 
fail to produce a deep and general sensation. Others 
are more modern, the com})ositioii of those family bards 
whom the chieftains of more distinguished name and 
power retain as the [)oets and historians of their tribes. 
These, of course, possess .various degrees of merit ; but 
much of it must evaporate in translation, or be lost on 
those who do not sympathize with the feelings of the 
poet.” 

“ And your bard, whose effusions seemed to produce 
such effect upon the company to-day, is he reckoned 
among the favourite poets of the mountains .^” 

“ That is a trying question. His reputation is high 
among his countrymen, and you must not expect me to 
dejtreciate it.”"^ 

“ But the song, IMiss Mac-lvor, seemed to awaken all 
those warriors, both young and old.” 

‘‘ The song is little more than a catalogue of names 
of the Highland clans under their distinctive peculiarities, 
and an exhortation to them to remember and to emulate 
the actions of their forefathers.” 

“ And am I wrong in conjecturing, however extraor- 
dinary the guess appears, that there was some allusion 
to me in the verses which he recited 

“ You have a quick observation. Captain Waverley 
which in this instance has not deceived you. The Gaelic 
language, being uncommonly vocalic, ’is well adapted for 


WAVERLEY. 


157 


sudden and extemporaneous poetry ; and a bjid seldom 
falls to augment the effects of a premeditated song, by 
throwing in any stanzas which may be suggested by tiie 
circumstances attending the recitation.” 

“ 1 would give my best horse to know what the High- 
land bard could find to say of such an unworthy southron 
as myself.” 

“ Jt shall not ev^en cost you a lock of his mane. — Una, 
J\Iavourneen ! (She spoke a few words to one of the 
young girls in attendance, who instantly curtsied, and 
tripped out of the room.) — 1 have sent Una to learn 
from the bard the expressions he used, and you shall 
command my skill as dragoman.” 

Una returned in a few minutes, and repeated to- her 
mistress a few lines in Gaelic. Flora seemed to think 
for a moment, and then, slightly colouring, she turned to 
Waverley — “ It is impossible to gratify your curiosity. 
Captain Wavmrley, without exposing my own presump- 
tion. If you will give me' a few moments for consider- 
ation, I will endeavour to engraft the meaning of these 
lines upon a rude English translation, which I liave at- 
tempted, of apart of the original. The duties of the 
tea-table seem to be concluded, and, as the evening is 
delightful, Una will show you the way to one of my fa- 
vourite haunts, and Cathleen and 1 will join you there.” 

Una, having received instructions in her native lan- 
guage, conducted Waverley out by a ])assage dilferent 
from that through which he had entered the apartment. 
At a distance he heard the hall of the Chief still resound- 
ing with a clang of bagpipes and the high applause of 
his guests. Having gained the open air by a postern 
door, they walked a little way up the wild, bleak, and 
narrow valley in which the house was situated, following 
the course of the stream that winded through it. In a 
spot, about a quarter of a mile from the castle, two brooks, 
which formed the little riveig had their junction. The 
larger of the two came down the long bare valley, which 
exien led, apparently without any change or elevation of 

VOL. I. 


168 


WAVERLET. 


character, as far as the hills which formed its boundary' 
permitted the eye to reach. But the other stream, 
which had its source among the mountains on the left 
hand of the strath, seemed to issue from a very narrow 
and dark opening betwixt two large rocks. These 
streams were different also in character. The larger 
was placid, and even sullen in its course, wheeling in 
deep eddies, or sleeping in dark blue pools ; but the 
motions of the lesser brook were rapid and furious, is- 
suing from between precipices like a maniac from his 
confinement, all foam and uproar. 

It was up the course of this last stream that Waver- 
ley, like a knight of romance, \vas conducted by the 
fair Highland damsel, his silent guide. A small path, 
which had been rendered easy in many places for 
Flora’s accommodation, led him through scenery of a 
very different description from that which he had just 
quitted. Around the castle, all was cold, bare, and des- 
olate, yet tame even in desolation ; but this narrow glen, 
at so short a distance, seemed to open into the land of 
romance. The rocks assumed a thousand peculiar and 
varied forms-. In one place, a crag of huge size pre- 
sented its gigantic bulk, as if to forbid the passenger’s 
farther progress; and it was not until he approached its 
very base, that Waverley discerned the sudden and 
acute turn by which the pathway wheeled its course 
around this formidable obstacle. In another spot, the 
projecting rocks from the opposite sides of the chasm 
had approached so near to each other, that two pine- 
trees laid across, and covered with turf, formed a rustic 
bridge at the height of at least one hundred and fifty 
feat. It had no ledges, and was barely three feet in 
breadth. 

While gazing at this pass of peril, which crossed, like 
a single black line, the small portion of blue sky, not in- 
tercepted by the projecting rocks on either side, it was 
with a sensation of horror that Waverley beheld Flora 
and her attendant appear, like inhabitants of another 
region, propped, as it w'ere, in mid air, upon this trem 


WAVERLET. 


159 


bling structure. She stopped upon observing him he- 
low, and, with an air of graceful ease, which made him 
shudder, waved her handkerchief to him by way of sig- 
nal. He was unable, from the sense of dizziness which 
her situation conveyed, to return the salute ; and was 
never more relieved than when the fair apparition passed 
on from the precarious eminence which she seemed to 
occupy with so much indifference, and disappeared on 
the other side. 

Advancing a few yards, and passing under the bridge 
which he had viewed wdth so much terror, the path as- 
cended rapidly from the edge of the brook, and the glen 
widened into a sylvan amphitheatre, waving with birch, 
young oaks, and hazels, with here and there a scattered 
yewMree. The rocks now receded, but still showed 
their grey and shaggy crests rising among the copse- 
wood. Still higher, rose eminences and peaks, some 
bare, some clothed with w’ood, some round and purple 
with heath, and others, splintered into rocks and crags. 
At a short turning, the path, which had for some fur- 
longs lost sight of the brook, suddenly placed Waverley 
in front of a romantic water-fall. It was not so remark- 
able either for great height or cjuantity of water, as for 
the beautiful accompaniments which made the spot in- 
teresting. After a broken cataract of about twenty feet, 
the stream was received in a large natural basin, filled 
to the brim with water, which, where the bubbles of the 
fall subsided, was so exquisitely clear, that although it was 
of great depth, the eye could discern each pebble at the 
bottom. Eddying round this reservoir, the brook found 
its way as if over a broken part of the ledge, and form- 
ed a second fall, which seemed to seek the very abyss ; 
then, wheeling out beneath from among the smooth 
dark rocks, which it had polished for ages, it wandered 
murmuring down the glen, forming the stream up which 
Waverley had just ascended."^^ The borders of this ro- 
mantic reservoir corresponded in beauty ; but it was 
beauty of a stern and commanding cast, as if in the 
act of expanding in*o grandeur. Mossy banks of turf 


160 


WAVERIiEY. 


were broken and interrupted by huge fragments of rockj 
and decorated with trees and shrubs, come of which had 
been planted under the direction of Flora, but so cau- 
tiously, that they added to the grace, wdihout diminish- 
ing the romantic wildness of the scene. 

Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate 
the landscapes of Poussin, Waverley found Flora gazing 
on the water-fall. Two paces farther back stood Cath- 
leen, holding a small Scottish harp, the use of which 
had been taught to Flora by Rory Dali, one of the last 
harpers of the Western Highlands. The sun, now 
stooping in the w’est, gave a rich and varied tinge to all 
the objects which surrounded Waverley, and seemed to 
add more than human brilliancy to the full expressive 
darkness of Flora’s eye, exalted the richness and purity 
of her complexion, and enhanced the dignity and grace 
of her beautiful form. Edward thought he had never, 
even in his wildest dreams, imagined a figure of such 
exquisite and interesting loveliness. The wild beauty of 
tbe retreat, bursting upon him as if by magic, augmented 
the mingled feeling of delight and awe with which he 
approached her, like a fair enchantress of Boiardo or 
Ariosto, by whose nod the scenery around . seemed to 
have been created, an Eden in the wilderness. 

Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious of 
her owm power, and pleased with its effects, which she 
could easily discern from the respectful, yet confused 
address of the young soldier. But, a? she possessed 
excellent sense, she gave the romance of the scene, and 
other accidental circumstances, full w^eight in appreci- 
ating the feelings witluvvhich Waverley seemed obvious- 
ly to be impressed ; and, unacquainted with the fanciful 
and susceptible peculiarities of his character, consider- 
ed his homage as the passing tribute which a woman of 
even inferior charms might have expected in such a sit- 
uation. She therefore quietly led the way to a spot at 
such a distance from the cascade, that its sound should 
rather accompany than interrupt that of her voice and 


WAVERLEY. 


IGl 


instrument, and, sitting down upon a mossy fragment of 
rock, she took the liarp from Cathleen. 

“ 1 have given you the trouble of walking to this spot, 
Captain VVaverley, both because 1 thought the scenery 
would interest you, and because a Highland song would 
suffer still more from my imperfect translation, were 1 
to introduce it without its own wild and appropriate ac- 
companiments. To speak in the poetical language of 
my country, the seat of the Celtic Muse is in the mist 
ot the secret and solitary hill, and her voice in the mur- 
mur of the mountain stream. He who woos her must 
love the barren rock more than the fertile valley, and 
the solitude of the desert better than the festivity of the 
hall.” 

Few could have heard this lovely woman make this 
declaration, with a voice where harmony was exalted 
by pathos, without exclaiming, that the muse whom she 
invoked could never find a more appropriate represen- 
tative. But Waverley, though the thought rushed on 
his mind, found no courage to utter it. Indeed, the wild 
feeling of romantic delight, with which he heard the few 
first notes she drew from her instrument, amounted al- 
most to a sense of pain. He would not for worlds have 
quitted his place by her side ; yet he almost longed for 
solitude, that he might decipher and examine at leisure 
the complication of emotions which now agitated his 
bosom. 

Flora had exchanged the measured and monotonous 
recitative of the bard for a lofty and uncommon High- 
land air, which had been a battle-song in former ages. 
A few irregular strains introduced a prelude of a wild 
and peculiar tone, which harmonized well with the dis- 
tant water-fall, and the soft sigh of the evening breeze 
m the rustling leaves of an aspen which overhung the 
seat of the fair harpress. The following verses convey 
but little idea of the feelings with which, so -sung and 
accompanied, they were heard by Waverley: 

VOL. I. 


|G2 


.WAV KItl.KT 


Tliere is mist on the moiinlnin, and night on the vale, 

But more dark is the sleep of'llie sons of the Cjiael. 

A stranger commanded — it sunk on the land, 

It has frozen each heart, and benumb'd every hand ! 

The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust. 

The bloodless claymore is but redden’d with rust; 

On the hill or the glen if a gun shouh! appear, 

It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer. 

The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse. 

Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse 1 
Be mute every string, and be liush’d every tone, 

That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown. 

But the dark hours of night and of slumber arc past, 

'I’lie morn on our mountains is dawning at last; 
Glenaladale’s peaks are illumed witli the raj s. 

And the streams of Glenflnnan leap bright in the blazo.42 

O high-minded Moray !43the exiled — the dear ! — 

In the blush of the dawning tlie Utondard uprear 1 
Wide, wide on the winds of tlie north let it fly. 

Like the sun’s latest flash when the tempest is nigh I 

Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break, 
Need the harp of the aged remind j’ou to wake ? 

That daw’ll never beamed on your forefathers’ eye. 

Bat it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or die. 

O sprung from the Kings who in Islay kept state, 

Proud chiefs of Clan Ranald, Glengarry and Sleat ! 
Combine like three streams from one mountain of snow. 
And resistless in union rush down on the foe ! • 

True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel, 

Place thy targe on thy shoulder and burnish thy steel 1 
Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle’s bold sw’ell. 
Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell ! 

Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, 

Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the galel 
May the race of Clan Gillean, the fearless and free. 
Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw', and Dundee' 

Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given 
Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven. 


WAVEI’LEY. 


lG;i 


Uuiip wiili (he race of rer.owuM Tiorri 3Toie, 

'Jo launch the long galley, ai-d tireich to the oar. 

How Mac-Sliimei u' 11 joy " hen their cl.-ief shall display 
The yew-cresied bonnet o’er tresses of'grev'. 

How the race of wrong’d Alpitn; ttnd murder'd CJlencoe 
Shall shout for revenge w hen they pour on the foe ! 

\e sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild boar, 
Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More ! 
Mac-N'eil of the Islands, anrl Moy of the Lake, 

For honour, for freedom, for vengeance awake ! 


He."e a large gre3'Iiouncl, bounding up the glen, jump- 
ed upon Flora, and interrupted her music by his im- 
portunate caresses. At a distant whistle, he turned and 
shot down the path again with the rapidity of an ar- 
row. ‘ That is Fergus’s faithful attendant, Captaifi Wa- 
verley,” said Flora, “ and that was liis signal. He likes 
no poetry but what is humorous, and comes in good time 
to interrupt my long catalogue of the tribes, whom one 
of your saucy English poets calls 

Chir booiless host of high-t>orn beggars, 

Mac-Leans, Mac-K.enzies, and Mac-Gregors.” 


VVaverley expressed his regret at the Interruption. 

“ O v'ou cannot guess how much vou have lost ! The 
bard, as in duty bound, has addressed three long stan- 
zas to V^ich Ian V^ohr of the Banners, enumerating all 
his great j)roperties, and not forgetting his being a cheer- 
er of the harper and bard — ‘ a giver of bounteous gifts.’ 
Besides, you should hav^e heard a practical admonition 
to the fair-haired son of the stranger, who lives' in the 
land where the grass is always green — the rider on the 
shining pampered steed, whose hue is like the raven, and 
whose neigh is like the scream of the eagle for battle. 
This valiant horseman is afTectionnmly cotijured to re- 
member that his ancestors were distinguisiied by their 
loyalty, as well as by their courage. — All this you have 
lost ; but, since your curiosity is not satisfied, 1 judge, 
10 


164 


M'AVEKLKT. 


from tlie distant sound of my brollier’s Avliisllo, I may 
have time to sing the concluding stanzas before lie comes 
to laugli at my translation.” 

Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, 

Hrave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake . 

'Tis the hiigle— hut not for the chase is the call ; 

’Tis the pihroch's shrill summons— but nottoahe hall. 

Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, 

When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath : . 

They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe, 

To the march and the muster, the line and the charge. 

Be the brand of each chieftain like Fin’s in his ire ! 

May thebUtoil through his veins How like currents of fire ! 

Bttrst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore, 

Or die like your sires, and endure it no more ! 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
fVaverley continues at Glennaquoich* 

As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before 
them. “ 1 knew 1 should find you here, even without 
the assistance of my friend Bran. A simple and unsub- 
limed taste now, like my own, would prefer a jet 
d’eau at Versailles to this cascade, with all its accom- 
paniments of rock and roar ; but this is Flora’s Parnas- 
sus, Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon. 
It would be greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she 
could teach her coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of 
its influence : he has just -drunk a pint of iisr|uebaugh 
to correct, he said,- the coldness of the claret — Let me 
try its virtues.” He sipped a little water in the hollow 
of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a theatri- 
cal air. — 


WAVERI.EY. 


165 


‘‘ O Lady of the desert, hail ! 

That lovest the harping of tlie Gael, 

Through fair and fertile regions borne, 

Where never yet grew grass or corn. 

B.it English poetry will never succeed under the influ- 
ence of a Highland Helicon — Allans ^courage— 


O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine, 

A cette heureuse fontaine, 

Ou on ne voit,sur le rivage, 

Que quelques vilains troupeaux, 
Suivis de nymphes de village, 

Qui les escortent sans sabots" — 


“ A truce, dear Fergus ! spare us those most tedious 
and insipid persons of all Arcadia. Do not, for Heav- 
en’s sake, bring down Coridon and Lindor upon us.” 

“ Nay, if you cannot relish la houletie et le chalu- 
meau, have with you in heroic strains.” 

“ Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the 
inspiration of Mac-Murrough’s cup, rather than of mine.” 

“ I disclaim it, ma belle demoiselle, although I protest 
it would be the more congenial of the two. Which of 
your crack-brained Italian romancers is it that says, 

lo d’Elieona niente 

Mi euro, in fe de Dio. che‘1 here d’acque 
(Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre mi spiacque 1* 

But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is 
little Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu. — Come, 
Cathleen, astore, (i» e. my dear,) begin; no apologies 
to the Cean-kinniA 

Cathleen sung with much liveliness a little Gaelic 
song, the burlesque elegy of a countryman upon the loss 
of liis cow, the comic tones of which, though he did no! 


* Good sooth, I reck nought of your Helicon *, 
Drink water wtioso viill, in faith tvvill drink none. 


1^66 


WAVERI.EY. 


understand the language, made Waverley laugh mare 
than once.'^'^ 

“ Admirable, Cathleen !” cried the Chieftain ; “ 1 
must find you a handsome husband among the clansmen 
one of these days.” 

Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself be- 
hind her companion. 

In the progress of their return to the castle, the 
Chieftain warmly pressed Waverleyto remain fora week 
or two, in order to see a grand hunting party, in which 
he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed to 
join. The charms of melody and beauty were too 
strongly impressed in Edward’s breast to permit his de- 
clining an invitation so pleasing. It was agreed, there- 
fore, that he should write a note to the Baron of Brad- 
wardine, expressing his intention to stay a fortnight at 
Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward by the 
bearer (a gilly of the Chieftain’s) any letters which 
might have arrived for him. 

This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom 
Fergus highly extolled as a gentleman and soldier. His 
character was touched with yet more discrimination by 
Flora, who observed he was the very model of the old 
Scottish cavalier, with all his excellences and pecu- 
liarities. “It is a character. Captain Waverley, which 
is fast disappearing ; for its best point was a self-respect 
which was never lost sight of till now. But, in the 
present time, the gentlemen whose principles do not 
permit them to pay court to the existing government, 
are neglected and degraded, and many conduct them- 
selves accordingly ; and, like some of the persons you 
have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and companions 
inconsistent with their birth and breeding. The ruth- 
less proscription of party seems to degrade the \ictims 
whom it brands, however unjustly. But let us hope a 
brighter day is approaching, when a Scottish country- 
gentleman may be a scholar without the pedantry of our 
friend the Baron, a sportsman without the low habits ol 
Mr. Falconer, and a judicious improver of bis property 


WAVER LEY. 


IG7 


without becoming a boorish two-legged steer like Kil 
lancureit.” 

Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time in- 
deed has produced, but in a manner very different from 
what she had in her mind. 

The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the 
warmest eneomium on her person, manners, and mind. 
“ That man,^’ said Flora, “ will find an inestimable 
treasure in the affeetions of Rose Bradwardine, who 
shall be so fortunate as to become their object. Her 
very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those 
quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband 
will be to her what her father now is, the object of all 
her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see noth- 
ing, and connect herself with nothing, but by him and 
through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she 
will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and 
share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a 
churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, 
for she will not long survive his unkindness. And, 
alas ! how great is the chance that some such unworthy 
lot may be that of my poor friend ! — O that I were a 
queen this moment, and could command the most ami- 
able and worthy youth of my kingdom to accept happi- 
ness with the hand of Rose Bradwardine !” 

“ I wish you would command her to accept mine en 
attendant , said Fergus, laughing. 

I don’t know by what caprice it was that this wish, 
however jocularly expressed, rather jarred on Edward’s 
feelings, notwithstanding his growing inclination to Flora, 
and his indifference to Miss Bradwardine. This is one 
of the inexplicabilities of human nature, which we leave 
without comment. 

“Your’s, brother.^” answered Flora, regarding him 
steadily. ‘‘No; you have another bride — Honour; 
and the dangers you must run in pursuit of her rival 
would break poor Rose’s heart.” 

With this discourse they reached the castle, and Wa- 
verley soon prepared his despatches for Tully-Veoian. 


168 


WAVKKLEY. 


As he knew the Baron was punctilious in such matters, 
he was about to impress his billet with a seal on wiiich 
his armorial hearings were engraved, hut he did not find 
it at his watch, and thought he must have left it at Tully- 
Veolan. He mentioned his loss, borrowing at the same 
time the family seal of the Chieftain. 

“ Surely,” said Miss Mac-Ivor, “ Donald Bean Lean 
would not” 

“ My life for him, in such circumstances,” answered 
her brother ; “ besides, he would never have left the 
watch behind.” 

“After all, Fergus,” said Flora, “and with every 
allowance, 1 am surprised you can countenance that 
man.” 

“ I countenance him ? — This kind sister of mine 
would persuade you. Captain Waverley, that I take what 
the people of old used to call a ‘ steak-raid,’ that is, 
a ‘collop of the foray’ or, in plainer words, a portion 
of the robber’s booty, paid by liim to the laird, or 
chief, through whose grounds he drove his prey. O 
it is certain, that unless I can find some way to charm 
Flora’s tongue. General Blakeney will send a serjeant’s 
party from Stirling (this he said with haughty and em- 
phatic irony) to seize Vich Ian Vohr, as they nickname 
me, in his own castle.” 

“Now, Fergus, must not our guest be sensible that 
all this is folly and affectation ? You have men enough 
to serve you without enlisting banditti, and your own 
honour is above taint — Why don’t you send this Donald 
Bean Lean, whom I hate for his smoothness and duplic- 
ity, even more than for his rapine, out of your country 
at once ? No cause should induce me to tolerate sucli 
a character.” 

“ JVo cause. Flora said the Chieftain, significantly. 

“ No cause, Fergus ! not even that which is nearest 
to my heart. Spare it the omen of such evil support- 
ers !” 

“ O but, sister,” rejoined the Chief, gaily, “ you 
don’t consder my respect for la belle passion, Evan 


M. VVER LEY. 


169 


Dliu Maccombicli is in love with Donald’s daughter, 
Alice, and yon cannot expect me to disturb him in his 
amours. Wliy, the whole clan would cry shame on me- 
You know it is one of their wise sayings, that a-kinsman 
is part of a man’s body, but a foster-b'rother is a piece 
of his heart.” 

“ Well, Fergus, there is no disputing with you ; but 
I would all this may end well.” 

“ Devoutly prayed, my dear and prophetic sister, 
and the best way in the world to close a dubious argu- 
ment. — But hear ye not the pipes. Captain Waverley ? 
Perhaps you will like better to dance to them in the 
hall, than to be deafened with their harmony without tak- 
ing part in the exercise they invite us to.” 

Waverley took Flora’s hand. The dance, song, and 
merry-making proceeded, and closed the day’s entertain- 
ment at the castle of Vich Ian Vohr. Edward at length 
retired, his mind agitated by a variety of new and con- 
flicting feelings, which detained him from rest for some 
time, in that not unpleasing state of mind in which fancy 
takes the helm, and the soul rather drifts passively along 
with the rapid and confused tide of reflections, than ex- 
erts itself to encounter, systematize, or examine them. 
At a late hour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac- 
Ivor. * 


^ CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Stag-hunt and its Consequences. 

% Shali this be a long or a short chapter ? — This is a 
questioii in which you, gentle reader, have no vote 
howevtu* much you may be interested in the conse- 
quences ; just as you may (like myself) probably have 
VOL. I. 


170 


WAVE RLE Y. 


notliing to do with the imnosing a new tax, excepting 
the trifling circumstance of being obliged to pa)’ it. 
More liappy surely in tlie present case, since, tliough it 
lies witliin my arbitrary power to extend my materials 
as I think proper, 1 cannot call you iiito Exchequer il 
you do not think proper to read my narrative. Let me 
therefore consider. It is true, that the annals and doc- 
uments in my hands say but little of this Highland chase ; 
but then 1 can find copious materials for description 
elsewhere. There is old Lindsay of Pitscottie ready at 
my elbow, with his Athole hunting, and his “ lofted and 
joisted palace of green timber ; with all kind of drink 
to be had in burgh and land, as ale, beer, wine, musca- 
del, malvaise, hippocras, and aquavitfE ; with wheat- 
bread, main-bread, ginge-bread, beef, mutton, lamb, 
veal, venison, goose, grice, capon, coney, crane, swan, 
partridge, plover, duck, drake, brissell-cock, pawnies, 
black-cock, muir-fowl, and capercailzies not forget- 
ting the “ costly bedding, vaiselle, and napry,” and least 
of all the “ excelling stewards, cunning Baxters, excel- 
lent cooks, and pottingars, with confections and drugs for 
the desserts.” Besides the particulars which may be 
thence gleaned from this Highland feast, (the splendour 
of which induced the Pope’s legate to dissent from an 
opinion which he had hitherto held, that Scotland, name- 
.y,was the — the — the latter end of the world) — besides 
these, might I not illuminate my pages with Taylor the 
Water Poet’s hunting in the braes of Mar, where, 

** Through heather, mosso, ’mong frogs, and t^ogs, and fogs, 

'IMoiigst craggy cliffs and thunder-hattered hills, 

Hares, hinds, hacks, roes, are cliased hy men and dogs, 

Whore two hours hunting fours<-ore fat deer kills. 

Lowland, your sports are low as is your scat ; 

'I'he nighlam! games and minds are high and great.” 

But without further tyranny over my readers, or dis- 
play of the extent of my own reading, 1 shall content 
mvself with borrowimr a sinale incident from the mem- 
orable hunting at Lude, commemorated in the ingen 


AVERLEY. 


171 


ions !\Tr. Gunn’s Essay on the Caledonian Harp, and so 
proceed in iny story with all the brevity that iny natural 
style of composition, partaking of what scholars call the 
periphrastic and arnbagitory, and the vulgar the circum- 
bendibus, will permit me. 

The solemn hunting was delayed, from various caus- 
es for about three weeks. The interval was spent by 
Waverley with great satisfaction at Glennaquoich ; for 
the impression which Flora had made on his mind at 
their first meeting grew daily stronger. She was pre- 
cisely the character to fascinate a youth of romantic 
imagination. Her manners, her language, her talents 
for poetry and music, gave additional and varied influ- 
ence to her eminent personal charms. Even in her 
hours of gaiety, she was in his fancy exalted above the 
ordinary daughters of Eve, and seemed only to stoop 
for an instant to those topics of amusement and gal- 
lantry which others appear to live for. In the neigh- 
bourhood of this enchantress, while sport consumed the 
morning, and music and the dance led on the hours of 
evening, Waverley became daily more delighted with 
his hospitable landlord, and more enamoured of his be- 
witching sister. 

At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting ar- 
rived, and Waverley and the Chieftain departed for the 
place of rendezvous, which was a day’s journey to the 
northward of Glennaquoich. Fergus was attended on this 
occasion by about three hundred of his clan, well armed, 
and accoutred in their best fashion. Waverley complied 
so far with the custom of the country as to adopt the 
trews, (he could not be reconciled to the kilt,) brogues 
and bonnet, as the fittest dress for the exercise in 
which he was to be engaged, and which least ex- 
.posed him to be stared at as a stranger when they 
should reach the place of rendezvous. They found, on 
the spot appointed, several powerful Chiefs, to all of 
whom Waverley was formally presented, and by all 
cordially received. Their vassals and clansmen, a part 
of whose feudal duly it was to attend on tliese parties, 


172 


WAVERLET. 


appeared in such numbers as amounted to a small army. 
These active assistants spread tlirougli the country lai 
and near, forming a circle, technically called the linclie.t, 
which, gradually closing, drove the deer in herds to- 
gether towards the glen where the Chiefs and princi- 
pal sportsmen lay in wait for them. In the meanwhile, 
these distinguished personages bivouacked among tlie 
flowery heath, wrajiped up in their plaids ; a mode of 
passing a summer’s night which Waverley found by no 
means unpleasant. 

For many hours after sunrise, the mountain ridges 
and passes retained their ordinary ajipearance of si- 
lence and solitude, and the Chiefs, with their followers, 
amused themselves with various pastimes, in which the 
joys of the shell, as Ossian has it, were not forgotten. 
“ Others apart sate on a hill retired probably as 
deeply engaged in the discussion of politics and news, 
as Milton’s spirits in metaphysical disquisition. At 
length signals of the approach of the game were des- 
cried and heard. Distant shouts resounded from valley 
to valley, as the various parties of Highlanders, clinrb- 
ing rocks, struggling through copses, wading brooks, and 
traversing thickets, approached more and more near to 
each other, and compelled the astonished deer, with the 
other wild animals that fled before them, into a narrower 
circuit. Every now and then the rejiort of muskets was 
heard, repeated by a thousand echoes. The baying of 
the dogs was soon added to the chorus, which grew ever 
louder and more loud. At length the advanced parties 
of the deer began to show themselves, and as the strag- 
glers came bounding down th-e pass by two or three at 
a time, the Chiefs showed their skill by distinguishing 
the fattest deer, and their dexterity in bringing them 
down with their guns. Fergus exhibited remarkable ad- 
dress, and Edward was also so fortunate as to attract the 
notice and applause of the sportsmen. 

But now the main body of the deer appeared at the 
head of the glen, compelled into a very narrow com- 
pass, and presenting such a formidable phalanx, that 


WAYEllLEY. 


173 


their antlers appeared at a distance over the rid^e of 
the steep pass like a leafless grove. Tlieir number was 
very great, and iVom a desperate stand whicli they made, 
with the tallest of the red-deer stags arranged in front, 
in a sort of battle array, gazing on the group which bar- 
red their passage down the glen, the more experienced 
sportsmen began to augur danger. The work of de- 
struction, however, now commenced on all sides. Doga 
and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees re- 
sounded from every quarter. The deer, driven to des- 
peratipn, made at length a fearful charge right upon the 
spot where the more distinguished sportsmen had taken 
their stand. The word was given in Gaelic to fling them- 
selves upon their faces ; but Waverley, on whose English 
ears the signal w^as lost, had almost fallen a sacrifice to his 
ignorance of the ancient language in which it was com- 
municated. Fergus, observing his danger, sprung up 
and pulled him w^ith violence to the ground, just as the 
whole herd broke down upon them. The tide being 
absolutely irresistible, and wounds from a stag’s horn 
highly dangerous,‘*^the activity of the Chieftain may be 
considered, on this occasion, as having saved his guest’s 
life. . He detained him with a firm grasp until the whole 
herd of deer had fairly run over them. Waverley then 
attempted to rise, but found that he had suffered several 
very severe contusions, and upon a further examination 
discovered that he had sprained his ancle viclentiy. 

This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the 
Highlanders, accustomed to such incidents, and prepar- 
ed for them, had suffered no harm themselves. A wig- 
wam was erected almost in an instant, where Edward 
w'as deposited on a couch of heather. The surgeon, or 
he who assumed the office, appeared to unite the charac- 
ters of a leech and a conjuror. He was an old srnoke- 
dned Highlander, wearing a venerable grey beard, and 
having for his sole garment a tartan frock, the skirts oi 
which descended to the knee, and, being undivided in 
front, made the vestment serve at once for doublet and 
VOL. I. 


174 


WAVERJLEY. 


breeclies.46 He observed great ceremony in approaching 
Edward ; and though our hero was wriihiiig with pain, 
would not proceed to any operation which might as- 
suage it until he had perambulated his couch three times, 
moving from east to west, according to the course of 
the siin.^”? This, which was called making the deasil, both 
the leech and the assistants seemed to consider as a 
matter of the last importance to the accomplishment of 
a cure ; andWaverley,whom pain rendered incapable of 
expostulation, and who indeed saw no chance of its 
being attended to, submitted in silence. 

After this ceremony was duly performed, the old 
Esculapius let his patient blood with a cupping-glass with 
great dexterity, and proceeded, muttering all the while 
to himself in Gaelic, to boil upon the fire certain herbs, 
with which he compounded an embrocation. He then 
fomented the parts which had sustained injury, never 
failing to murmur prayers or spells, which of the two 
VVaverley could not distinguish, as his ear only caught 
the words Gasper-Melchior-Balthazar~max-prajc-fax, 
and similar gibberish. The fomentation had a speedy 
effect in alleviating the pain and swelling, which our 
hero imputed to the virtue of the herbs, or the effect of 
the chafing, but which was by the bystanders unanimously 
ascribed to the spells with which the operation had been 
accompanied. Edward was given to understand, that 
not one of the ingredients had been gathered except 
during the full moon, and that the herbalist had Avhile 
collecting them, uniformly recited a charm, which, in 
English, ran thus ; 

Hail to lliee, thou holy herb, 

That sprung on holy ground ! 

All in the Mount Olivet 
First wert thou found : 

Thou art boot for many a bruise , 

And healest many a wound ; 

In our Tiady’s blessed name, 

I take thee from the ground.48 


W AVE RLE T. 


175 


Edward observed, with some surprise that even Fer- 
gus, notwiihstanding his knowledge and education, seem- 
ed to fall in with the superstitious ideas of his countryjnen, 
either because he deemed it impolitic to affect scepticism 
on a matter of general belief, or more probably because, 
like most men who do not think deeply or accurately on 
such subjects, he had in his mind a reserve of supersti- 
tion which balanced the iVeedom of his expressions and 
practice upon other occasions. VVaverley made no com- 
mentary, therefore, on the manner of the treatment, but 
rewarded the professor of medicine with a liberality be- 
yond the utmost conception of his wildest hopes. He 
uttered, on the occasion, so many incoherent blessings 
in Gaelic and English, that Mac-lvor, rather scandalized 
at the excess of his acknowledgments, cut them short, 
by exclaiming, (kud mile mhalloich ort!‘\.e, “A hun- 
dred thousand curses on you !” and so pushed the helper 
of men out of the cabin. 

After Waverley was left alone, the exhaustion of pain 
and fatigue — for the whole day’s exercise had been se- 
vere — threw him into a profound, but yet a feverish sleep, 
which he chiefly owed to an opiate draught administered 
by the old Highlander, from some decoction of herbs in 
his pharmacopeia. 

Early the next morning, the purpose of their meeting 
being over, and their sports blanked by the untoward 
accident, in which Fergus and all his friends expressed 
the greatest sympathy, it became a question how to dis- 
pose of the disabled sportsman. This was settled by 
Mac-lvor, who had a litter prepared, of “ birch and 
hazel gray,”'^^which was borne by his people with such 
caution and dexterity as renders it not improbable that 
they may have been the ancestors of some of those sturdy 
Gael, who have now the happiness to transport the belles 
of Edinburgh in their sedan-chairs, to ten routs in one 
evening. When Edward was elevated upon their shoul- 
ders, he could not help being gratified with the romantic 
effect produced by the breaking up of this sylvan camp.^ 


m 


WAVERLET. 


' The various tribes assembled, each at tlie pibroch of 
their native clan, and each headed by their patriarchal 
ruler. Some, who had already begun to retire, were 
seen winding up the hills, or descending the passes which 
led to the scene of action, the sound of their bagpipes 
dying upon the ear. Others made still a moving picture 
upon the narrow plain, forming various changeful groups, 
their featliers and loose plaids waving in the morning 
breeze, and their arms glittering in the rising sun. Most 
of the chiefs came to take farewell of Waverley, and 
to express their anxious hope they might again, and 
speedily, meet ; but the care of Fergus abridged the cer- 
emony of taking leave. At length, his own men being 
completely assembled and mustered, Mac-Ivor commenc- 
ed his march, but not towards the quarter from which 
they had come. He gave Waverley to understand, that 
the greater part of his followers, now on the field, were 
bound on a distant expedition, and that when he had 
deposited him in the house of a gentleman, who he 
was sure would pay him every attention, he himself 
should be under the necessity of accompanying them the 
greater part of the way, but would lose no time in re- 
joining his friend. 

Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not 
mentioned this ulterior destination when they set out 
upon the hunting-party ; but his situation did not admit 
of many interrogatories. The greater part of the clans- 
men went forward under the guidance of old Ballen- 
keiroch, and Evan Dhu Maccombich, apparently in high 
spirits. A few remained for the purjiose of escorting 
the Chieftain, who walked by the side of Edward’s litter, 
and attended him with the most affectionate assiduity. 
About noon, after a journey which the nature of the 
conveyance, the pain of his bruises, and the roughness of 
the way, rendered inexpressibly painful, Waverley was 
hospitably received into the house of a gentleman related 
to Fergus, who had prepared for him every accommo- 
dation which the simple habits of living then universal 
in the Highlands, put in his power. In this person, an 


WAVE RLE Y. 


177 


nld man about seventy, Edward admired a relic of prim- 
itive simplicity. He wore no dress but what his estate 
afforded ; the cloth was the fleece of his own shee[), 
woven by his own servants, and stained into lartan by 
the dyes produced from the herbs and lichens of the 
hills around him. His linen was spun by his daughters 
and maid-servants, from his own flax, nor did his table, 
though plentiful, and varied with game and fish, offer an 
article but what was of native produce. 

Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, 
he was fortunate in the alliance and protection of Vich 
Ian Vohr, and other bold and enterprizing chieftains, who 
protected him in the quiet unambitious life beloved. It 
is true, the youth born on his grounds were often enticed 
to leave him for the service of his more active friends ; 
but a few old servants and tenants used to shake tlieir 
grey locks when they heard their master censured for 
want of spirit, and observed, “ When the wind is still, 
the shower fidls soft.” This good old man, whose char- 
ity and hospitality were unbounded, would have received 
Wav'erley with kindness, had he been the meanest Saxon 
peasant, since his situation required assistance. But his 
attention to a friend and guest of Vich Ian Vohr was 
^anxious and unremitted. Other embrocations were ap- 
plied to the injured limb, and new spells were put in 
practice. At length, after more solicitude than w'as per- 
haps for the advantage of his health, Fergus took fare- 
w^ell of Edu-ard for a few days, when, he said, he w'ould 
return to Tomanrait, and hoped by that lime Waverlej. 
w'ould be able to ride one of the Highland ponies of his 
landlord, and in that manner return to Gleunaquoich. 

The next day, when his good old host appeared, Ed- 
ward learned that his friend had departed with the dawn, 
leaving none of his followers except Callum Beg, the 
sort of foot-page who used to attend his person, and who 
had now in charge to wait upon Waverley. On asking 
his host, if he knew where the Chieftain was gone ? the 
old man looked fixedly at him, with something mysterious 
and sad in the smile which was his only reply. Waver* 


17S 


WAVE RLE Y- 


ley repeated his question, to which his host answered in 
a proverb, — 

‘‘ Wliat sen! the messcjij^ers to hell. 

Was asking what they knew full well.”5l 

He was about to proceed, but Callum Beg said, rather 
pertly as Edward thought, that “ Ta Tighearnach (r. e. 
the Chief) did not like ta Sassenagh Duinhe-wassel to 
be pingled wi’ mickle speaking, as she was na tat week” 
From this Waverley concluded he should disoblige his 
friend by inquiring of a stranger the object of a journey, 
which he himself had not communicated. 

It is unnecessary to trace the progress of our hero’s 
recovery. The sixth morning had arrived, and he was 
able to walk about with a staff, when Fergus returned 
with about a score of his men. He seemed in the high- 
est spirits, congratulated Waverley on his progress to- 
w^ards recovery, and finding he was able to sit upon 
horseback, projiosed their immediate return to Glenna- 
quoich. Waverley joyfully acceded, for the form of its 
fair mistress had lived in liis dreams during ail the time 
of his confinement. 

Now he has ridden o’er moor and moss, 

O’er hill and many a glen, 

Fergus all the while, with his myrmidons, striding stoutly 
by his side, or diverging to get a shot at a roe or a heath- 
cock. Waverley’s bosom beat thick when they approach- 
ed the old tower of Ian nan Chaistel, and could distin- 
guish the fair form of its mistress advancing to meet 
them. 

Fergus began immediately, with his usual high spirits, 
to exclaim, “ Open your gates, incomparable princess, 
to the wounded Moor Abindarez, whom .Rodrigo de 
Narvez, constable of Antiquera, conveys to your castle ; 
or open them, if you like it better, to the renowned Mar- 
quis of Mantua, the sad attendant of his half-slain friend, 
Baldovinos of the mountain. — Ah, long rest to thy soul 


W AV MRl.E Y. 


179 


Cervantes ! witlicAit quoting thy remnants, how should 1 
frame my language to befit romantic ears !” 

Flora now advanced, and welcoming VVaverlev wiih 
much kindness, expressed her regret for his accident, of 
which she had already heard particulars, and lier surprise 
that her brother should not have taken better care to put 
a stranger on his guard against the perils of the sport in 
which he engaged him. Edward easily exculpated the 
Chieftain, who, indeed, at his own personal risk, had 
probably saved his life. 

This greeting over, Fergus said three or four words to 
his sister in Gaelic. The tears instantly sprung to her 
eyes, l)ut they seemed to be tears of devotion and joy, for 
she looked up to heaven, and folded her hands as in a 
solemn expression of prayer or gratitude. After the 
pause of a minute, she presented to Edward some letters 
which had been forwarded from Tully-Veolan during ins 
absence, and, at the same time, delivered some to her 
brother. To the latter she likewise gave three or four 
numbers of the Caledonian IMercury, the only newspaper 
which was then published to the north of the Tweed. 

Both gentlemen retired to examine their despatches, 
and Edward speedily found that those which he had re- 
ceded contained matters of very deep interest. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

JVetvs from England, 

TifP. letters which Waverley liad hitherto received 
from his relations in England, were not such as required 
itny particular notice in this narrative. His father usually 
wrote to him with the pompous affectation of one who 
was too much oppressed Ly public affairs to find leisure 
to attend to those of his own family. Now and then he 


180 


WAVERLEY* 


mentioned persons of rank in Scotland to whom he wish- 
ed his son should pay some attention ; but Waverley, 
hitlierto occupied by tlie amusements which he had found 
at Tully-Veolan and Glennaquoich, dispensed with pay- 
ing any attention to hints so coldly thrown out, es})ecially 
as distance, shortness of leave of absence, and so forth, 
furnished a ready apology. But latterly the burden ot 
Mr. Richard Waverley’s paternal epistles consisted in 
certain mysterious hints of greatness and influence which 
lie was speedily to attain, and which would insure his 
son’s obtaining the most rapid promotion, should he re- 
main in the military service. Sir Everard’s letters were 
of a different tenor. They were short ; for the good 
Baronet was none of your illimitable correspondents, 
whose manuscript overflows the folds of their large post 
paper, and leaves no room for the seal ; but they were 
kind and affectionate, and seldom concluded without some 
allusion to our hero’s stud, some question about the state 
of his purse, and a special inquiry after such of his recruits 
as had preceded him from Waverley-Honour. Aunt 
Rachel charged him to remember his principles of reli- 
gion, to take care of his health, to beware of Scotch 
mists, which, she had heard, would wet an Englishman 
th'-ough and through ; never to go out at night without his 
great-coat ; and, above all, to wear flannel next to his skin. 

Mr. Pembroke only wrote to our hero one letter, but 
it was of the bulk of six epistles of these degenerate 
days, containing, in the moderate compass of ten folio 
pages, closely written, a precis of a supplementary quarto 
manuscript of addenda^ delenda^ et corrigenda^ in refer- 
ence to the two tracts with which he had presented Wa- 
verley. This he considered as a mere sop in the pan to 
stay the appetite of Edward’s curiosity, until he should 
find an opportunity of sending down the volume itself, 
which was much too heavy for the post, and which he 
proposed to accompany with certain interesting pam- 
phlets, lately published by his friend in Little 13ritain, 
wjih whom he had kept up a soi’t of literary correspon- 
dence, in virtue of which the library shelves of Waver- 


WAVEULKY. 


181 


ley-Honour were loaded with much trash, and a goo/J 
round bill, seldom summed in fewer than three figures, 
was yearly transmitted, in which Sir Everard VVaverley 
of Waverley-Honour, Bart, was marked Dr. to Jona- 
than Grubbet, bookseller and stationer. Little Britain. 
Such had hitherto been the style of the letters which 
Edward had received from England ; but the packet 
delivered to him at Glennaquoich was of a different and 
more interesting complexion. It would be impossible 
for the reader, even were I to insert the letters at full 
length, to comprehend the real cause of their being writ- 
ten, without a glance into the interior of the British Cab- 
inet at the period in question. 

The ministers of the day happened (no very singular 
event) to be divided into two parties ; the weakest of 
which, making up by assiduity of intrigue their inferior- 
ity in real consequence, had of late accjuired some new 
proselytes, and with them the hope of superseding their 
rivals in the favour of their sovereign, and overpowering 
them in the House of Commons. Amongst otliers, tliey 
had thought it worth while to practise upon Richard 
Waverley. This lionest gentleman, by a grave myste- 
rious demeanour, an attention to the etiquette of business, 
rather more than to itsessence, a facility in making long dull 
speeches, consisting of truisms and common-places, hash- 
ed up with a technical jargon of office, which prevented 
the inanity of his orations from being discovered, had 
acquired a certain name and credit in public life, and 
even established, with many, the character of a profound 
politician ; none of your shining orators, indeed, whose 
talents evaporate in tropes of rhetoric and flashes of wit, 
but one possessed of steady parts for business, wltich 
would wear well, as the ladies say in choosing their silks, 
and ought in all reason to be good for common and 
every-day use, since they were confessedly formed of 
no holiday textiire. 

This faith had become so general, that the insurgen 
party in the cabinet of which we have made mention 

VOL. I. 


182 


WAVE RLE Y. 


after sounding ]Mr. Richard Waverley, were so satisfied 
with liis sentiments and abiJiiies, as to propose, that, ir 
case of a certain revolution in the ministry, lie should 
take an ostensible place in the new order of things, not 
indeed of the very first rank, but greatly higher, in point 
both of emolument and influence, than that which he 
now enjoyed. There was no resisting so tempting a 
proposal, notwithstanding that the Great Man, under 
whose patronage he had enlisted, and by whose banner 
he had hitherto stood firm, was the principal object of 
the proposed attack by the new allies. Unfortunately, 
this fair scheme of ambition was blighted in the very 
bud, by a premature movement. All the official gen- 
tlemen concerned in it, who hesitated to take the part of 
a voluntary resignation, w^ere informed that the king had 
no farther occasion for their services ; and, in Richard 
VV'^f^ver ley’s case, which the minister considered as ag- 
gravated by ingratitude, dismissal was accompanied by 
something like personal contempt and contumely. The 
public, and even the party of whom he sl.ared the fall, 
sympathized little in. the disappointment of this selfish 
and interested statesman ; and he retired to the country 
under the comfortable reflection, that he had lost, at the 
same time, character, credit, and, — what he at least 
equally deplored, — emoltiment. 

Richard Waverley’s letter to his son upon this occa- 
sion was a masterpiece of its kind. Aristides himself 
could not have made out a harder case. An unjust 
monarch, and an ungrateful country, were the burden 
of each rounded paragraph. He spoke of long services, 
and unrequited sacrifices, though the former had been 
overpaid by his salary, and nobody could guess in what 
the latter consisted, unless it w-ere in his deserting, not 
from conviction, but for the lucre of gain, the tory prin- 
ciples of his family. In the conclusion, his resentment 
was wrought to such an excess by the force of his own 
oratory, that he could not repress some threats of ven- 
geance, however vague and impotent, and finally ac- 
quainted his son with his pleasure that he should testily 


WAYERLKY. 


1S3 


his sense of the ill treatment he had snstaii ed, by tlirow- 
ing up his commission as soon as the letter reached him. 
This, he said, was also liis uncle’s desire, as he would 
himself intimate in due course. 

Accordingly, the next letter which Edward opened, 
was from Sir Everard. His brother’s disgrace seemed 
to have removed from his well-natured bosom all recol- 
lection of tlieir differences ; and, remote as he was from 
every means of learning that Richard’s disgrace was in 
reality only the just, as well as natural consequence of 
his own unsuccessful intrigues, the good, but credulous 
Baronet, at once set it down as a new and enormous in- 
stance of the injustice of the existing government. It 
w’as true, he said, and he must not disguise it even from 
Edward, tliat his father could not have sustained such an 
insult as was now, for the first time, offered to one of his 
house, unless he had subjected Inmself to it by accepting 
of an employment under the present system. Sir Ever- 
ard had no doubt that he now both saw and felt the mag- 
nitude of this error, and it should be his (Sir Everard’s) 
business, to take care that the cause of his regret should 
not extend itself to pecuniary conse(|ucnces. It was 
enough for a Waverloy to have sustained the public dis- 
grace ; tlie patrimonial injury could easily be obviated 
by the head of their family. But it was both the opinion 
of Mr. Richard Waverley and his own, that Edward, 
the representative of the family of Waverley-Honour, 
should not remain in a situation which subjected him also 
to such treatment as that with which his father had been 
stigmatized. He requested his nephew therefore to take 
the fittest, and, at the same time, the most speedy op- 
portunity, of transmitting his resignation to the War- 
Office, and hinted, moreover, that little ceremony was 
necessary where so little had been used to his father. 
He sent multitudinous greetings to the Baron of Brad- 
ward ine. 

A letter from aunt Rachel spoke out even more plain- 
ly. She considered the disgrace of brother Richard as 
the just reward of his forfeiting his allegiance to a lawful 


184 


'WAVERLEY. 


though exiled sovereign, and taking the oaths to an alien , 
a concession which her grandfather, Sir Nigel Waverley, 
refused to make, either to the Round-head Parliament or 
to Cromwell, when his life and fortune stood in the ut- 
most extremity. She hoped her dear Edward would 
follow the footsteps of his ancestors, and as speedily as 
possible get rid of the badge of servitude to the usurp- 
ing family, and regard the wrongs sustained by his father 
as an admonition from Heaven, that every desertion of 
the line of loyalty becomes its own punishment. She 
also concluded with her respects to Mr. Bradwardine, 
and begged Waverley would inform her whether his 
daughter. Miss Rose, was old enough to wear a pair of 
very handsome ear-rings, which she proposed to send as 
a token of her affection. The good lady also desired to 
be informed whether Mr. Bradwardine took as much 
Scotch snuff, and danced as unweariedly, as he did when 
he was at Waverley-Honour about thirty years ago. 

These letters, as might have been expected, highly 
excited Waverley’s indignation. From the desultory 
style of his studies, he had not any fixed political opinion 
to place in opposition to the movements of indignation 
which he felt at his father’s supposed wrongs. Of the 
real cause of his disgrace, Edward was totally ignorant ; 
nor had his habits at all led him to investigate the politics 
of the period in which he lived, or remark the intrigues 
in which his father had been so actively engaged. In- 
deed, any impressions which he had accidentally adopted 
concerning the parties of the times, were (owing to the 
society in which he had lived at Waverley-Honour,) of 
a nature rather unfavourable to the existing government 
jind dynasty. He entered, therefore, without hesitation, 
into the resentful feeling of the relations who had the 
best title to dictate his conduct ; and not perhaps the 
less willingly, when he remembered the tajdium of his 
quarters, and the inferior figure which he had made 
among the officers of his regiment. If he could have 
had any doubt upon the subject it would have been de- 


WAVEIII.BT. 


185 


cided by the following letter from his rommanding offi- 
cer, which, as it is very short, shall he inserted verbatim ; 

• 

“ Sir, 

“ Having carried somewhat beyond the line of my 
duty, an indulgence which even the lights of nature, and 
much more those of Christianity, direct towartis errors 
which may arise from youth and' inexperienco, and that 
altogether without effect, 1 am reluctantly compelled, at 
the present crisis, to use the only remaining remedy which 
is in my power. You are, therefore, hereby command- 
ed to repair to , the head-quarters of the regiment, 

within three days after the date of this letter. If you 
shall fail to do so, I must report you to the VVaV-Office 
a§ absent without leave, and also take other steps, which 
will be disagreeable to you, as well as to, 

“ Sir, 

“ Your obedient Servant, 

“ J. Gardiner, Lieut. Col 
“ Commanding the Regt. Dragoons.” 

Edward’s blood boiled within him as he read this let- 
ter. He had been accustomed from his very infancy to 
possess, in a great measure, the disposal of his own time, 
and thus acquired habits which rendered the rules of 
military discipline as unpleasing to him in this as they 
were in some other respects. An idea that in his own 
case they would not be enforced in a very rigid manner, 
had also obtained full possession of his mind, and had 
hitherto been sanctioned by the indulgent conduct of his 
lieutenant-colonel. Neither had any thing occurred, to 
his knowledge, that should have induced his command- 
ing oflicer, without any other warning than the hints we 
noticed at the end of the fourteenth chapter, so sudden- 
ly to assume a harsh, and, as Edward deemeu it, so inso- 
lent a tone of dictatorial authority. Connecting it with 
ihe letters he had just received from his family, he could 
not but suppose, that it was designed to make him feel, 

VOL i. 


186 


WAVEHLEY. 


in liis present situation, tlie same pressure of authority 
which had been exercised in his father’s case, and that 
the whole was a concerted scheme to depress and de- 
grade every member of the Waverley family. 

Without a pause, therefore, Edward wrote a few cold 
lines, thanking liis lieutenant-colonel for past civilities, 
and expressing regret that he should have chosen to 
efiace the remembrance of them, by assuming a different 
tone towards him. The strain of his letter, as well as 
what he (Edward) conceived to be his duty, in the pres- 
ent crisis, called upon him to lay down his commission j 
and he therefore enclosed the formal resignation of a 
situation which subjected him to so unpleasant a corres 
pondence, and requested Colonel Gardiner would have 
the goodness to forward it to the proper authorities. 

Having finished this magnanimous epistle, he felt some- 
what uncertain concerning the terms in which his resig- 
nation ought to be expressed, upon which subject he re- 
solved to consult Fergus Mac-lvor. It may be observed, 
in passing, that the bold and prompt habits of thinking, 
acting, and speaking, which distinguished this young 
Chieftain, had given him a considerable ascendancy over 
the mind of Waverley. Endowed with at least equa. 
powers of understanding, and with much finer genius, 
Edward yet stooped to the bold and decisive activity of 
an intellect which was sharpened by the habit of acting 
on a preconceived and regular system, as well as by ex- 
tensive knowledge of the world. 

When Edward found his friend, the latter had still in 
his hand the newspaper which he had perused, and ad- 
vanced to meet him with the embarrassment of one who 
has unpleasing news to communicate. “Do your let- 
ters, Captain Waverley, confirm the unpleasing informa- 
tion which I find in this paper 

He put the paper into his hand, where his father’s 
disgrace w^as registered in the most bitter terms, trans- 
ferred probably from some Londoix journal. At the 
end of the paragraph was this remarkable innuendo : 


Wave RLE Y. 


187 


“We understand that ‘this same iiicAar6/ who hath 
done all this,’ is not the only example of the Wavering 
Honour of W-v-r-ly H-n-r. See the Gazette of this 
day.” 

With hurried and feverish apprehension our hero 
turned to the place referred to, and found therein re- 
corded, “ Edward Waverley, captain in regiment 

dragoons, superseded for absence without leave and 
in the list of military promotions, referring to the same 
regiment, he discovered this farther article, “ Lieut. 
Julius Butler, to be captain, vice Edward Waverley su-^ 
perseded.” ^ 

Our hero’s bosom glowed with the resentment which 
undeserved and apparently premeditated insult was calcu- 
lated to excite in the bosom of one who had aspired af- 
ter honour, and was thus w'antonly held up to public 
scorn and disgrace. Upon comparing the date of his 
colonel’s letter with that of the article in the Gazette, he 
perceived that his threat of making a report upon his ab- 
sence had been literally fulfilled, and without in- 
quiry, as it seemed, whether Edward had either receiv- 
ed his summons, or was disposed to comply with it. 
The whole, therefore, appeared a formed plan to de- 
grade him in the eyes of the public ; and the idea of 
its have succeeded filled him with such bitter emotions, 
that, after various attempts to conceal them, he at length 
threw himself into JVlac-Ivor’s arms, and gave vent to 
tears of shame and indignation. 

It was none of this Chieftain’s faults to be indifferent 
to the wrongs of his friends ; and for Edward, indepen- 
dent of certain plans with which he was connected, he 
felt a deep and sincere interest. The proceeding ap- 
peared as extraordinary to him as it had done to Ed- 
ward. He indeed knew of more motives than Waver- 
ley was privy to for the peremptory order that he should 
join his regiment. But that, without farther inquiry^ 
into the circumstances of a necessary delay, the com- 
manding officer, in contradiction to his known and estab- 
lished character, should have proceeded in so harsh and 
11 


188 


\VAVERLIi\. 


unusual a manner, was a mystery which he could not 
penetrate. He soothed our hero, however, to the best 
of his power, and began to turn his thoughts on revenge 
for his insulted honour. 

Edward eagerly grasped at the idea. “ Will you 
carry a message for me to Colonel Gardiner, my dear 
Fergus, and oblige me for ever 

Fergus paused; It is an act of friendship which you 
should command, could it be useful, or lead to the right- 
ing your honour ; but in the present case, 1 doubt if 
your commanding officer would give you the meeting, 
‘ on account of his having taken measures, which, however 
harsh and exasperating, were still within the strict bounds 
of his duty. Besides, Gardiner is a precise Huguenot, 
and has adopted certain ideas about the sinfulness of 
such rencontres, from which it would be impossible to 
make him depart, especially as his courage is beyond all 
suspicion. And besides, I — I, to say the truth — I dare 
not at this moment, for some very weighty reasons, go 
near any of the military quarters or garrisons belonging 
to this government.” 

“ And am I,” said Waverley, ‘‘ to sit down quiet and 
contented under the injury I have received 

“That will I never advise my friend,” replied Mac-Ivor. 
“ But I would have vengeance to fall on the head, not on 
the hand ; on the tyrannical and oppressive government 
which designed and directed these premeditated and reit- 
erated insults, not on the tools of office which they employ- 
ed in the execution of the injuries they aimed at you.” 

“ On the government !” said Waverley. 

“ Yes,” replied the impetuous Highlander, “ on the 
usurping house of Hanover, whom your grandfather would 
no more have served than he w'ould have taken wages of 
red-hot gold from the great fiend of hell !” 

“ But since the time of my grandfather two genera- 
tions of this dynasty have possessed the throne,” said 
Edward, coolly. 

“ True,” replied the chieftain ; “ and because we have 
passively given them so long the means of showing their 


WAVERLE Y. 


189 


native character, because both you and I myself have lived 
in quiet submission, have even truckled to the times so fai 
as to accepl commissions under them, and thus have given 
them an opportunity of disgracing us publicly by resuming 
them, are we not on that account to resent injuries 
which our fathers only apprehended, but which we have 
actually sustained ? Or is the cause of the unfortunate 
Stuart family become less just, because their title has 
devolved upon an heir who is innocent of the charges 
of misgovernment brought against his father ? — Do you 
remember the lines of your favourite poetf — 

Had Richard unconstrain'd resign’d the throne, 

A king can give no more than is his own ; 

The title stood entail’d had Richard had a son. 

You see, my dear Waverley, I can quote poetry as well 
as Flora and you. But come, clear your moody brow, 
and trust to me to show you an honourable road to a 
speedy and glorious revenge. Let us seek Flora, who, 
perhaps, has more news to tell us of what has occurred 
during our absence. She will rejoice to hear that you 
are relieved of your servitude. But first add a post- 
script to your letter, marking the time when you receiv- 
ed this calvinistical Colonel’s first summons, and ex- 
press your regret that the hastiness of his proceedings 
prevented your anticipating them by sending your resig- 
nation. .Then let him blush for his injustice.” 

The letter- was sealed accordingly, covering a formal 
resignation of the commission, and Mac-Ivor despatched 
it with some letters of his own by a special messenger, 
with charge to put iheniinto the iieaiest post-office in the 
Lowlands. 


190 


WAVERI.EY. 


CHAPTER XX VI. 

An Eclair cissement. 

The hint which the Chieftain had thrown out re- 
specting Flora was not unpremeditated. He had observ- 
ed with great satisfaction the growing attachment of Wa- 
verley to his sister, nor did he see any bar to their union, 
excepting the situation which Waverley’s father held in 
the ministry, and Edward’s own commission in the army 
of George 11. These obstacles were now removed, and 
in a manner which apparently p.aved the way for the 
son’s becoming reconciled to another allegiance. In 
every other respect the match would be most eligible. 
The safety, happiness, and honourable provision of his 
sister, whom he dearly loved, appeared to be insured 
by the proposed union ; and his heart swelled when he 
considered how his own interest would be exalted in the 
eyes of the ex-monarch to whom he had dedicated his 
service, by an alliance with one of those ancient, power- 
ful, and wealthy English families of the steady cavalier 
faith, to awaken whose decayed attachment to the Stuart 
family was now a matter of such vital importance to 
the Stuart cause. Nor could Fergus perceive any obsta- 
cle to such a scheme. Waverley’s attachment was evi- 
dent ; and as his person was handsome, and his taste 
apparently coincided with her own, he anticipated no 
opposition on the part of Flora. Indeed, between his 
ideas of patriarchal power, and those which he had ac- 
quired in France respecting the disposal of females in 
marriage, any opposition from his sister, dear as she 
was to him, would have been the last obstacle on which 


waverlet. 


191 


he would have calculated, even had the union been less 
eligible. 

Influenced by these feelings, the Chief now led Wa- 
verley in quest of Miss Mac-Ivor, not without the hope 
that the present agitation of his guest’s spirits might give 
him courage to cut short what Fergus termed the romance 
of the courtsliip. They found Flora, with her faithful 
attendants, Una and Cathleen, busied in preparing what 
appeared to Waverley to be white bridal favours. Dis- 
guising as well as he could the agitation of his mind, 
Waverley asked for what joyful occasion Miss Mac-Ivoi 
made such ample preparation. 

“ It is for Fergus’s bridal,” she said, smiling. 

Indeed !” said Edward ; “ he has kept his secret 
well. I hope he will allow me to be his bride’s-man.” 

“ That is a man’s office, but not yours, as Beatrice 
says,” retorted Flora. 

“ And who is the fair lady, may I be permitted to ask, 
Miss Mac-Ivor ?” 

“ Did I not tell you long since, that Fergus wooed no 
bride but Honour ?” answered Flora. 

“ And am I then incapable of being his assistant and 
counsellor in the pursuit of Honour ?” said our hero, col- 
ouring deeply. “ Do I rank so low in your opinion ?” 

“ Far from it. Captain Waverley. I would to God 
you were of our determination ! and made use of the 
expression which displeased you, solely 

Because you are not of our quality, 

But stand against us as an enemy.” 

“ That time is passed, sister,” said Fergus ; “ and 
you may wish Edward Waverley (no longer captain) joy 
of being freed from the slavery to an usurper, implied in 
that sable and ill-omened emblem.” 

“ Yes,” said Waverley, undoing the cockade from his 
hat, “ it has pleased the king who bestowed this badge 
upon me, to resume it in a manner which leaves me little 
reason to regret his service.” 


19:2 


AVAVETILEY. 


“ Thank God for that !” cried the enthusiast ; “ and 

0 that they may be blind enough to treat every man oi 
honour who serves them with the same indignity, that 

1 may have less to sigh for when the struggle ap- 

proaches !” , 

“ And now, sister,” said the chieftain, replace his 
cockade with one of a more lively colour. I think it was 
the fashion of the ladies of yore to arm and send forth 
their knights to high achievement.” 

“ Not,” replied the lady, “ till the knight adventurer 
had well weighed the justice and the danger of the cause, 
Fergus. Mr. Waverley is just now too much agitated 
by feelings of recent emotion, for me to press upon him 
a resolution of consequence.” 

Waverley felt half-alarmed at the thought of adopting 
the badge of what was by the majority of- the kingdom 
esteemed rebellion, yet he could not disguise his cha- 
grin at the coldness with which Flora parried her broth- 
er’s hint. “ Miss Mac-lvor, 1 perceive, thinks the 
knight unworthy of her encouragement and favour,” 
said he, somewhat bitterly. 

‘‘ Not so, Mr. Waverley,” she replied, with great 
sweetness. Why should I refuse my brother’s valued 
friend a boon wddch I am distributing to his wdiole clan : 
Most willingly would I enlist every ntan of honour in the 
cause to which my brother has devoted himself. But 
Fergus has taken his measures with bis eyes open. His 
life has been devoted to this cause from his cradle ; 
with him its call is sacred, w^ere it even a summons to 
the tomb. But how can I wash you, Mr. Waverley, so 
new’ to the world, so far from every friend who might 
advise and ought to influence you, — in a moment too of 
sudden pique and indignation, — how can I wish you to 
plunge yourself at once into so desperate an enter- 
prize 

Fergus, who did not understand these delicacies, 
strode through the apartment biting his; lip, and then, 
with a constrained smile, said, “ Well, sister, 1 leave you 
to act your new cliaracter of mediator betw’een the 


WAVKltLKY 


193 


Elector of Hanover and the subjects of your lawful 
sovereign and benefactor,” and left the room. 

There was a painful pause, wbicli was at length brok- 
en by Miss Mac-lvor. “ My brother is unjust,” she said, 
“ because he can bear no interruption that seems to 
thwart his loyal zeal.” 

“ And do you not share his ardour ?” asked Waverley 

“ Do I not ?” answered Flora — “ God knows n)ine ex- 
ceeds his, it tliat be possible. But I am not, like him, rapt 
by the bustle of military preparation, and the infinite detail 
necessary to the present undertaking, beyond consideration 
of the grand principles of justice and truth, on which our 
enterprize is grounded ; and these, 1 am certain, can only 
be furthered by measures in themselves true and just. 
To operate upon your present feelings, my dear Mr. 
Waverley, to induce you to an irretrievable step, of 
which you have not considered either the justice or the 
danger, is, in my poor judgment, neither the one nor 
the other.” 

“ Incomparable Flora !” said Edward, taking her 
hand ; how much do I need such a monitor !” 

“ A better one by far,” said Flora, gently withdraw- 
ing her hand, “ Mr. Waverley will always find in his 
own bosom, when he will give its small still voice leisure 
to be heard.” 

“ No, Miss Mac-lvor, I dare not hope it ; a thousand 
circumstances of fatal self-indulgence have made me 
the creature rather of imagination than reason. Durst 
I but hope — could I but think — that you would deign to 
be to me that affectionate, that condescending friend, 
who would strengthen me to redeem my errors, my fu- 
ture life” 

‘‘ Hush, my dear sir ! now you carry your joy at es- 
caping the hands of a jacobite recruiting officer to an 
unparalleled excess of gratitude.” 

“ Nay, dear Flora, trifle with me no longer ; you 
cannot mistake the meaning of those feelings which 1 
have almost involuntarily expressed ; and, since I have 
VOL. I 


194 


WAVERLEY. 


broken tliebarrier of silence, let me profit by my audac- 
ity — Or may 1, with your permission, mention to your 
brother” 

“ Not for the world, Mr. Waverley 
What am 1 to understand ?” said Edward. “ Is there 
any fatal bar — has any prepossession ” 

“ None, sir,” answered Flora. “ I owe it to myself 
to say, that 1 never yet saw the person, on whom I thought 
with reference to the present subject.” 

“ The shortness of our acquaintance, perhaps — If Miss 
Mac-lvor will deign to give me time ” 

“ 1 have not even that excuse. Captain W averley’s 
character is so open — is, in short, of that nature, that it 
cannot be misconstrued, either in its strength or its weak- 
ness.” 

“ And for that weakness you despise me ?” said Edward. 

“ Forgive me, Mr. Waverley — and remember it is but 
within this half hour that there existed between us a 
barrier of a nature to me insurmountable, since I never 
could think of an officer in the service of the Elector ol 
Hanover in any other light than as a casual acquaint- 
ance. Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so un- 
expected a topic, and in less than an hour I will he 
ready to give you such reasons for the resolution I shall 
express, as may be satisfactory at least, if not pleasing 
to you.” So saying. Flora withdrew, leaving Waverley 
to meditate upon the manner in which she had received 
his addresses. 

Ere he could make up his mind whether to believe 
his suit had been acceptable or no, Fergus re-entered 
the apartment. “ What, a la mort^ Waverley he 
cried. “ Come dowm with me to the court, and you 
shall see a sight worth all the tirades of your romances. 
An hundred firelocks, my friend, and as many broad- 
swords, just arrived from good friends ; and two or 
three hundred stout fellows almost fighting which shall 
first possess them. — But let me look at you closer — 
Why, a true Highlander would say you have been blight- 
ed by an evil eye. — Or can it be this silly girl that lias 


WAVERLEY. 


195 


thus blanked your spirit ? — Never mind her. dear Ed- 
vvard ; the wisest of her sex are fools in what regards the 
business of life.” 

“ Indeed, my good friend,” answered Waverley, “ all 
hat I can charge against your sister is, that she is too 
sensible, too reasonable.” 

“If that be all, I insure you for a. louis d’or against 
the mood lasting four-and-twenty hours. No woman 
was ever steadily sensible for that period ; and I will 
engage, if that will please you. Flora shall be as unrea- 
sonable to-morrovy as any of her sex. You must learn, 
my dear Edward, to consider women en mousquetaire.^^ 
So saying, he seized W averley’s arm, and dragged him 
off to review his military preparations. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

Upon the same Subject, 

Fergus Mac-Ivor had too much tact and delicacy 
to renew the subject which he had interrupted. His 
head was, or appeared to be, so full of guns, broad- 
swords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan hose, that Waver- 
ley could not for some time draw his attention to any 
other topic. 

“ Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus, that you 
are making all these martial preparations ?” he asked. 

“ When we have settled that you go with me, you 
shall knoAv all ; 'hut otherwise the knowledge might rath- 
er be prejudicial to you.” 

“ But are you serious in your purpose, with such in- 
ferior forces, to rise against an established government f 
It IS mere phrenzy.” 

“ Laissez faire a Don Antoine — I shall take good 
care of myself. We shall at least use the compliment 


19G 


WAVEHLEY. 


of Conan, who never got a stroke but he gave one. I would 
not, however,” continued the chiefiain, “ have you think 
me mad enough to stir till a favourable opportunity : I 
will not slip my dog before the game’s a-foot. But, once 
more, will you join with us,' and you shall know all ?” 

“ How can I?” said Waverley ; “ I, who have so late- 
ly held that commission which is now posting back to those 
that gave it ? My accepting it implied a promise of fidel- 
ity, and an acknowledgement of the legality of the gov- 
ernment.” 

“ A rash promise,” answered Fergus, “ is not a steel 
handcuff; it may be shaken off, especially when it was given 
under deception, and has been repaid by insult. But if you 
cannot immediately make up your mind to a glorious re- 
venge, go to England, and ere you cross the Tweed, you 
wdll hear tidings that will make the world ring ; and if Sir 
Everard be the gallant old cavalier I have heard him de- 
scribed by some of our honest gentlemen of the year one 
thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he will find you a 
better horse-troop and a better cause than you have lost.” 

“ But your sister, Fergus 

“ Out, hyperbolical fiend !” replied the chief, laughing ; 
“ how vexest thou this man ! — Speak’st thou of nothing 
but of ladies 

“ Nay, be serious, my dear friend,” said Waverley ; 
“ I feel that the happiness of my future life must depend 
upon the answer which Miss Mac-Ivor shall make to what 
1 ventured to tell her this morning.” 

“ And is this your very sober earnest,” said F ergus, more 
gravely, “ or are we in the land of romance and fiction ?’' 

“ My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose 
me jesting on such a subject ?” 

“Then, in very sober earnest,” answered bis friend, “ I 
am very glad to hear it ; and so highly do I think of Flora, 
that you are the only man in England for whom I would 
say so much. — But before you shake my hand so warm- 
ly, there is more to be considered. — Your own family — 
will they approve your connecting yourself with the sister 
oi a high-born Highland beggar ?” 


WAVERLEY. 


197 


“ My uncle’s situation,” said Waverley, “ his general 
opinions, and his unifonn indulgence, entitle me to say, 
that birth and personal qualities are all he would look to 
in such a connexion. And where can I find both united 
in such excellence as in your sister ?” 

“ O nowhere ! — cela va sans dire,^^ replied Fergus 
with a smile. “ Hut your Auher will expect a father’s 
prerogative in being consulted.” 

“ Surely ; but his late breach with the ruling powers re- 
moves all apprehension of objection on his part, especially 
as 1 am convinced that my uncle will be warm in my cause.” 

“ Religion perhaps,” said Fergus, “ may make obsta- 
cles, though we are not bigotted Catholics.” 

“ My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and 
lier religion was never objected to by my family. — Do 
not think of my friends, dear Fergus ; let me rather 
have your infiuence where it may be more necessary to 
remove obstacles — I mean with your lovely sister.” 

“ My lovely sister,” replied Fergus, “ like her loving 
brother, is very apt to have a pretty decisive w'ill of her owm, 
by which, in tliis case, you must be ruled ; but you shall not 
want my interest, nor my counsel. And, in the first place, 
I will give you one hint — Loyalty is her ruling passion ; 
and since she could spell an English book, she has 
been in love with the memory of the gallant Captain 
VVogan, who renounced the service of the usurper Crom- 
well to join the standard of Charles II., marched a 
handful of cavalry from London to the Highlands to 
join Middleton, then in arms for the king, and at length 
died gloriously in the royal cause. Ask her to show' you 
some verses she made on his history and fate ; they have 
been much admired, I assure you. The next point is — 
I think I saw Flora go up towards the water-fall a short 
time since — follow, man, follow ! — don’t allow the gar- 
rison time to strengthen its purposes of resistance — 
A/erte d la muraille ! Seek Flora out, and learn her 
decision as soon as you can, and Cupid go wdth you, 
while I go to look over belts and cartouch-boxes.” 

VOL I. 


198 


>VAVERLEY. 


Waverley ascended the glen with an anxious and 
throbbing heart. Love, witli all its romantic train of 
hopes, fears, and wishes, was mingled with other feelings 
of a nature less easily defined. He could not but re- 
member how much this morning had changed his fate, 
and into what a complication of perplexity it was likely 
to plunge him. Sunrise had seen him possessed of an 
esteemed rank in the honourable profession of arms, his 
father to all appearance rapidly rising in the favour of his 
sovereign ; — all this had passed aw'ay like a dream — he 
himself was dishonoured, his father disgraced, and he 
had become involuntarily the confidant at least, if not 
the accomplice, of plans, dark, deep, and dangerous, 
which must either infer the subversion of the govern- 
ment he had so lately served, or the destruction of all 
who had participated in them. Should Flora even listen 
to his suit favourably, what prospect was there of its 
being brought to a happy termination amid the tumult of 
an impending insurrection Or how coidd he make 
the selfish request that she should leave Fergus, to whom 
she was so much attached, and, retiring with him to 
England, wait as a distant spectator, the success of her 
brother’s undertaking, or the ruin of all his hopes and 
fortunes? — Or, on the other hand, to engage himself, 
with no other aid than his single arm, in the dangerous 
and precipitate counsels of the Chieftain, — to be whirl- 
ed along by him, the partaker of all his desperate and 
impetuous motions, renouncing almost the power of 
judging, or deciding upon the rectitude or prudence of 
his actions, — this was no pleasing prospect for the se- 
cret pride of Waverley to stoop to. And yet what 
other conclusion remained, saving the rejection of his 
addresses by Flora, an alternative not to be thought of 
in the present high-wrought state of his feelings, with any 
thing short of mental agony. Pondering the douiitful 
and dangerous prospect before him, he at length arrived 
near the cascade, where, as Fergus had augured, he 
found Flora seated. 


WAVE RLE Y. 


199 


She was quite alone, and as soon as she observed his 
approach, she rose and came to meet him. Edward at- 
tempted to say something within the verge of ordinary 
compliment and conversation, but found himself unequal 
to the task. Flora seemed at first equally embarrassed, 
but recovered herself more speedily, and (an unfavoura- 
ble augury for Waverley’s suit) was the first to enter 
upon the subject of their last interview. “ It is too im- 
portant, in every point of view, Mr. Waverley, to per- 
mit me to leave you in doubt on my sentiments.” 

“ Do not speak them speedily,” said Waverley, much 
agitated, “ unless they are such as I fear, from your man- 
ner, I must not dare to anticipate. Let time — let m^r 

future conduct — let your brother’s influence” 

“ Forgive me, Mr. Waverley,” said Flora, her com- 
plexion a little heightened, but her voice firm and com- 
posed. ‘‘ I should incur my own heavy censure, did 1 
delay expressing my sincere conviction that 1 can never 
regard you otherwise than as a valued friend. I should 
do you the highest injustice did I conceal my sentitnents 
for a moment— I see I distress you, and 1 grieve for it, 
but better now than later ; and G, better a thousand times, 
Mr. Waverley, that you should feel a present momentary 
disappointment, than the long and heart-sickening griefs 
which attend a rash and ill-assorted marriage !” 

“ Good God !” exclaimed Waverley, “ why should 
you anticipate such consequences, from a union, where 
birth is equal, where fortune is favourable, where, if I 
may venture to say so, the tastes are similar, where you 
allege no preference for another, where you even express 
a favourable opinion of him whom you reject ?” 

Mr. Waverley, \ have that favourable opinion^” an- 
swered Flora ; “ and so strongly, that though I would 
rather have been silent on the grounds of my resolution, 
you shall command them, if you exact such a mark ol 
my esteem and confidence.” 

She sat down upon a fragment of rock, and Waverley, 
placing himself near her, anxiously pressed for the expla- 
nation she offered. 


200 


WAVERLEY. 


‘‘ I dare hardly,” she said, “ tell you the situation of my 
feelings, they are so different from those usually ascribed 
to young women at my period of life ; and I dare hardly 
touch upon what I conjecture to be the nature of yours, 
lest 1 should give offence where 1 would willingly admin- 
ister consolation. For myself, from my infancy till this 
day, I have had but one wish, — the restoration of my 
royal benefactors to.their rightful throne. It is irnpos- 
eible to express to you the devotion of my feelings to 
this single subject, and I will frankly confess, that ii 
has so occupied my mind as to exclude every thought 
respecting what is called my own settlement in life. 
Let me but live to see the day of that happy restora- 
tion, and a Highland cottage, a French convent, or an 
English palace, will be alike indifferent to me.” 

“ But, dearest Flora, how is your enthusiastic zeal for 
the exiled family inconsistent with my happiness 

Because you seek, or ought to seek, in the object 
of your attachment, a heart whose principal delight 
should be in augmenting your domestic felicity, and re- 
turning your affection, even to the height of romance 
To a man of less keen sensibility, and less enthusiastic 
tenderness of disposition. Flora Mac-Ivor might give 
content, if not happiness ; for, were the irrevocable 
words spoken, never would she be deficient in the duties 
which she vowed.” 

“And why, — why. Miss Mac-Ivor, should you think 
yourself a more valuable treasure to one who is less ca- 
pable of loving, of admiring you, than to me 

“Simply because the tone of our affections would be 
more in unison, and because his more blunted sensibili- 
ty would not require the return of enthusiasm which I 
have not to bestow. But you, Mr. Waverley, would for 
ever refer to the idea of domestic happiness wdiich your 
imagination is capable of painting, and whatever fell short 
of that ideal representation would be construed into cool- 
ness and indifference, while you might consider the enthu- 
siasm with which I regarded the success of the roy«l fam- 
ily, as defrauding your affection of its due return'*’ ^ 


WAVERLEY. 


201 


“ In Ollier words, Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me ?” 
said her suitor dejectedly. 

I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, per- 
haps more, than any man I have ever seen ; but I can- 
not love you as you ought to beloved. O ! do not, for 
your own sake, desire so hazardous an experiment. 
The woman whom you marry, ought to liave affections 
and opinions moulded upon yours. Her studies ought 
to be your studies ; — her wishes, her feelings, her hopes, 
her fears, should all mingle with yours. She should en- 
hance your pleasures, share your sorrows, and cheer 
your melancholy.” 

“ And why will not you. Miss Mac-Ivor, who can so 
well describe a happy union, why will not you be your- 
self the person you describe 

“ Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me?” said 
Flora. “ Havel not told you, that every keener sensation ol 
my mind is bent exclusively towards an event, upon which, 
indeed, 1 have no power but those of my earnest prayers ?” 

“ And might not the granting the suit I solicit,” said Wa- 
verley, too earnest on his purpose to consider what he was 
about to say, “ even advance the interest to which you 
have devoted yourself ? My family is wealthy and pow- 
erful, inclined in principles to the Stuart race, and should 
a favourable opportunity” 

“ A favourable opportunity !” said Flora, somewhat 
scornfully, “Inclined in principles! — Can such lukewarm 
adherence be honourable to yourselves, or gratifying to 
your lawful sovereign ? — Think, from my present feelings, 
what I should suffer when I held the place of member in a 
family, where the rights which I hold most sacred are sub- 
jected to cold discussion, and only deemed worthy of sup- 
port when they shall appear on the point of triumphing 
without it I” 

“ Your doubts,” quickly replied Waverley, “ are un- 
just as far as concerns myself. The cause that 1 shall 
assert, I dare support through every danger, as undaunt- 
edly as the boldest who draws sword in its behalf.” 

“ Of that,” answered Flora, “ I cannot doubi for a 
* moment. But consult your own good sense and reason 


202 


AVAVERLF.Y. 


rather than a prepossession hastily adopted, probably 
only because you have met a young woman possessed ol 
the usual accomplishments, in a sequestered and roman- 
tic situation. Let your part in this great and perilous 
drama rest upon conviction, and not on a hurried, and 
probably a temporary feeling.’’ 

Waverley attempted to reply, but his words failed him. 
E\ery sentiment that Flora had uttered vindicated the 
strength of his attachment ; for even her loyalty, al- 
though wildly entliusiastic, was generous and noble, and 
disdained to avail itself of any indirect means of sup- 
porting the cause to which she was devoted. 

After walking a little way in silence down the path. 
Flora thus resumed the conversation; — “ One word 
more, Mr. Waverley, ere we bid fare well to this topic 
for ever ; and forgive my boldness if that word have the 
air of advice. My brother Fergus is anxious that you 
should join him in his present enterprize. But do not 
consent to this ; — you could not, by your single exer- 
tions, further his success, and you would inevitably share 
his fall, if it be God’s pleasure that fall he must. Your 
character would also suffer irretrievably. Let me beg 
you will return to your own country ; and, having pub- 
licly freed yourself from every tie to the usurping gov- 
ernment, I trust you will see cause, and find opportuni- 
ty, to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and stand 
forth, as your loyal ancestors, at the head of your nat- 
ural folio w*ers and adherents, a worthy representative of 
the house of Waverley.” 

“ And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish my- 
self, might I not hope” — r— 

“ Forgive my interruption,” said Flora. “ The pres- 
ent time onl}^ is ours, and I can but explain to you with 
candour the feelings which I now entertain ; how they 
might be altered by a train of events too favourable per- 
haps to be hoped for, it were in vain even to conjecture : 
Only be assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after my brother’s 
honour and happiness, there is none which I shall more 
sincerely pray for than for yours.” 


W AVEKIiKY. 


203 


With these words she parted from him, for they were 
now arrived where two paths separated. Waverley 
reached the castle amidst a medley of conflicting pas- 
tiions. He avoided any private interview with Fergus, 
as he did not find himself able either to encounter his 
raillery, or reply to his solicitations. The wild revelry 
of the feast, for IMac-Jvor kept open table for his clan, 
served in some degree to stun reilection. When their 
festivity was ended, he began to consider how he should 
again meet Miss Mac-Ivor after the painful and interest- 
ing explanation of the morning. But Flora did not ap- 
pear. Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he was told by 
Cathleen, that her mistress designed to keep her apart- 
ment that evening, went himself in quest of her ; but 
apparently his remonstrances were in vain, for he return- 
ed with a heightened complexion, and manifest symp- 
toms of displeasure. The rest of the evening passed 
on without any allusion, on the part either of Fergus or 
Waverley, to the subject which engrossed the reflections 
of the latter, and perhaps of both. 

When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeav- 
oured to sum upthebusiness of the day. That the repulse 
he had received from Flora, would be persisted in for the 
present, there was no doubt. But could he hope for 
ultimate success in case circumstances permitted the re- 
newal of his suit Would the enthusiastic loyalty, which 
at this animating moment left no room for a softer passion, 
survive, at least, in its engrossing force, the success or 
the failure of the present political machinations And 
if so, could he hope that the interest which she had ac- 
knowledged him to possess in her favour, might be im- 
proved into a warmer attachment Ho taxed his mem- 
ory to recall every word she had used, with the appro- 
priate looks and gestures which had enforced them, and 
ended by finding himself in the same state of uncertainty. 
It was very late before sleep brought relief to the tumult 
of his mind, after the most painful and agitating day 
which he had ever passed. 


204 


WAVEllLEY. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A Letter from Tulhj-Veolan. 

In the morning, when Waverley’s troubled reflections 
had for some lime given way to repose, there came music 
to his dreams, but not the voice of Selma. He imagined 
himself transported back to Tully-Veolan, and that he 
lieard Davie Gellalley singing in the court those matins 
which used generally to be the first sounds that dis- 
turbed his repose while a guest of the Baron of Brad- 
waruine. The notes which suggested this vision contin- 
ued, and waxed louder, until Edward awoke in earnest. 
The illusion, however, did not seem entirely dispelled. 
The apartment was in the fortress of Ian nan Chaistel, but 
it was still the voice of Davie Gellatley that made the 
following lines resound under the window : — 

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here, 

My lieart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer] 

A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 

My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.52 

Curious to know what could have determined Mr. Gel- 
latley on an excursion of suclyunwonted extent, Edw'ard 
began to dress himself in all haste, during which operation 
the minstrelsy of Davie changed its tune more than once, 

There’s nought in the Highlands but syboes and leeks, 

And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks} 

Wanting the breeks, and without hose and shoon. 

But we’ll a’ win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame.63 

By the time Waverley was dressed and had issued 
forth, David had associated himself with two or three 
of the mumerous Highland loungers who always graced 


'NVAVERLEY. 


205 


the gates of the castle with their presence, and was ca- 
pering and dancing full merrily in the doubles and full 
career of a Scotch foursome reel, to the music of his 
own whistling. In this double capacity of dancer and 
musician, he continued, until an idle piper, who observed 
his zeal, obeyed the unanimous call of Seid siias, (/. e. 
blow up,) and relieved him from the latter part of his 
trouble. Young and old then mingled in the dance as 
they could find partners. The appearance of Waverley 
did not interrupt David’s exercise, though he contrived, 
by grinning, nodding, and throwing one or two inclinations 
of the body into the graces with which he performed 
the Highland fling, to convey to our hero symptoms of 
recognition. Then, while busily employed in setting, 
whooping all the while and snapping his fingers over his 
head, he of a sudden prolonged his side-step until it 
brought him to the place where Edward was standing, 
and, still keeping time to* the music like Harlequin in a 
pantomime, he thrust a letter into our hero’s hand, and 
continued his saltation without pause or intermission. 
Edward, who perceived that the address was in Rose’s 
hand-writing, retired to peruse it, leaving the faithful 
bearer to continue his exercise until the piper or he 
should be tired out. 

The contents of the letter greatly surprised him. It 
nad originally commenced with. Dear Sir ; but these 
words had been carefully erased, and the monosyllable, 
Sir, substituted in their place. The rest of the contents 
shall be given in Rose’s own language. 

“ I fear I am using an improper freedom by intruding 
upon you, yet I cannot trust to any one else to let you 
know some things which have happened here, with which 
it seems necessary you should be acquainted. Forgive 
me, if I am wrong in what I am doing ; for, alas ! Mr. 
VVhiverley, I have no better advice than that of my own 
feelings ; — -my dear father is gone from this place, and 
when he can return to my assistance and protection, God 
alone knows. You have probably heard, that in conse* 

VOL. I. ... 


206 


WAVERLEY. 


quence of some troublesome news from the Highlands, 
warrants were sent out for apprehending several gentle- 
men in these parts, and, among others, my dear father. 
In spite of all my tears and entreaties that he would sur- 
render himself to the government, he joined with Mr. 
Falconer and some other gentlemen, and they have all 
gone northwards, with a body of about forty horsemen. 
So I'^m not so anxious concerning his immediate safety, 
as about what may follow afterwards, for these troubles 
are only beginning. But all this is nothing to you, Mr. 
Waverley, only I thought you would be glad to learn that 
my father has escaped, in case you happen to have heard 
that he was in danger. 

“ The day after my father went off, there came a 
party of soldiers to Tully-Veolan, and behaved very 
rudely to Baillie Macwheeble ; but the officer was very 
civil to me, only said his duty obliged him to search for 
arms and papers. My father had provided against this 
by taking away all the arms except the old useless things 
which hung in the hall, and he had put all his papers out 
of the way. But O ! Mr. Waverley, how shall I tell 
you, that they made strict inquiry after you, and asked 
when you had been at Tully- Veolan, and where you now 
were. The officer is gone back with his party, but a 
non-commissioned officer and four men remain as a sort 
of garrison in the house. They have hitherto behaved 
very well, as we are forced to keep them in good humour. 
But these soldiers have hinted as if on your falling into 
their hands you would be in great danger ; I cannot nre- 
vail on myself to write whatwicked falsehoods they said, 
for I am sure they are falsehoods ; but you will best 
judge what you ought to do. The party that returned 
carried off your servant prisoner, with your two horses, 
and every thing that you left at Tully-Veolan. I hope 
God will protect you, and that you will get safe home to 
England, where you used to tell me there was no milita- 
ry violence nor fighting among clans permitted, but every 
thing was done according to an equal law that protected 
all who were harmless and innocent. I hope you will 


WAVE RLE Y. 


207 


exert your indulgence as to my boldness m writing to 
you, where it seems to me, though perhaps erroneously, 
that your safety and honour are concerned. 1 am sure 
— at least 1 think, my father would approve of my writ- 
ing ; for Mr. Rubric is fled to his cousin’s at the Duch- 
ran, to be out of danger from the soldiers and the whigs, 
and Baillie Macwheeble does not like to meddle (he says) 
in other men’s concerns, though I hope what may serve 
my father’s friend at such a time as this, cannot be term- 
ed improper interference. Farewell, Captain Waverley ! 
1 shall probably never see you more ; for it would be 
very improper to wish you to call at Tully-Veolan just 
now, even if these men were gone ; but I will always re- 
member with gratitude your kindness in assisting so poor 
a scholar as myself, and your attentions to my dear, dear 
father. I remain your obliged servant, Rose Comyne 
Bradwardine. 

“ P. S. — 1 hope you will send me a line by David 
Gellatley, just to say you have received this, and that you 
will take care of yourself ; and forgive me if I entreat 
you, for your own sake, to join none of these unhappy 
cabals, but escape, as fast as possible, to your own fortu- 
nate country. — My compliments to my dear Flora, and 
to Glennaquoieh. Is she not as handsome and accom- 
plished as 1 described her ?” 

Thus concluded the letter of Rose Bradwardine, the 
contents of which both surprised and aflected Waverley. 
That the Baron should fall under the suspicions of gov- 
ernment, in consequence of the present stir among the 
partizans of the house of Stuart, seemed only the natural 
consequence of his political predilections ; but how he 
himself should have been involved. in such suspicions, con- 
scious that until yesterday he had been free from harbour- 
ing a thought against the prosperity of the reigning family, 
seemed inexplicable. Both at Tully-Veolan and Glen- 
naquoich, his host had respected his engagements with 
the existing government, and though enough passed by 
accidental innuendo that might induce him to reckon the 
Baron and the Chief among those disaffected gentlemen 


208 


WAVERLEY. 


who were still numerous in Scotland, yet until his own 
connection with the army had been broken off by the 
resumption of his commission, he had no reason to sup- 
pose that they nourished any immediate or hostile at- 
tempts against the present establishment. Still he was 
aware that unless he meant at once to embrace the pro- 
posal of Fergus Mac-Ivor, it v^ould deeply concern him 
to leave this suspicious neighbourhood without delay, and 
repair where his conduct might undergo a satisfactory 
examination. Upon this he the rather determined, as 
Flora’s advice favoured his doing so, and because he felt 
inexpressible repugnance at the idea of being accessary 
to the plague of civil war. Whatever were the original 
rights of the Stuarts, calm reflection told him, that, 
omitting the question how far James the Second could 
forfeit those of his posterity, he had, according to the 
united voice of the whole nation, justly forfeited his own. 
Since that period, four monarchs had reigned in peace 
and glory over Britain, sustaining and exalting the char- 
acter of the nation abroad, and its liberties at home. 
Reason asked, was it worth while to disturb a govern- 
ment so long settled and established, and to plunge a 
kingdom into all the miseries of civil war, for the purpose 
of replacing upon the throne the desc’^ndants of a monarch 
by whom it had been wilfully forfeited ? If, on the other 
hand, his own final conviction of the goodness of theii 
cause, or the commands of his father or uncle, should 
recommend to him allegiance to the Stuarts, still it was 
necessary to clear his own character by showing that he 
had not, as seemed to be falsely insinuated, taken any 
step to this purpose, during his holding the commission 
of the reigning monarch. 

The aflectionate simplicity of Rose, and her anxiety 
for his safety, — his sense too of her unprotected state, and 
of the terror and actual dangers to which she might be 
exposed, made an impression upon his mind, and he in- 
stantly wrote to thank her in the kindest terms for her solici- 
tude on his account, to express his earnest good wishes 
for her welfare and that of her father, and to assure her 


AVAVERLUY. 


209 


uf his own safety. The feelings which this task excited 
were speedily lost in the necessity which he now saw of 
bidding farewell to Flora Mac-Ivor, perhaps for ever. 
TJie pang attending this reflection was inexpressible ; for 
her high-minded elevation of character, her self-devotion 
to the cause which she had embraced, united to jier 
scrupulous rectitude as to the means of serving it, had 
vindicated to his judgment the choice adopted by his 
passions. But time pressed, calumny was busy with his 
lame, and every hour’s delay increased the power to in- 
jure it. His departure must be instant. 

With this determination he sought out Fergus, and 
communicated to him the contents of Rose’s letter, with 
his own resolution instantly to go to Edinburgh, and 
put into the hands of some one or other of those persons 
of influence to whom he had letters from his father, his 
exculpation from any charge which might be preferred 
against him. 

“ You run your head into the lion’s mouth,” answered 
Mac-Ivor. “You do not know the severity of a govern- 
ment harassed by just apprehensions, and a conscious- 
ness of their own illegality and insecurity. I shall have ^ 
to deliver you from some dungeon in Stirling or Edin- 
burgh Castle.” 

“ My innocence, my rank, my father’s intimacy with 

Lord M , General G , he. will be a sufficient 

protection,” said Waverley. 

“ You will find the contrary,” replied the chieftain ; 

“ these gentlemen will have enough to do about their own 
matters. Once more, will you take the plaid, and stay a 
little wdiile w-ith us among the mists and the crows, in the 
oravest cause ever sword was drawn in 

“ For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold 
me excused.” 

“ Well then,” said Mac-Ivor, “ I shall' certainly find 
you exerting your poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, 
or your amifjuarian researches in detecting die Oggam^^ 
character, or some Punic hieroglyphic uoon the key- 

VOL. I. 


210 


WAVKRLEY. 


stones of a vault, curiously arched. Or what say you to 
xin petit pendement bien joli ? against which awkward 
ceremony 1 don’t warrant you, should you meet a body 
of the armed west-country whigs. ” 

‘‘ And why should they use me so ?” said Waverley. 

“For a hundred good reasons,” answered Fergus: 
“ First, you are an Englishman ; secondly, a gentleman ; 
thirdly, a prelalist abjured ; and, fourthly, they have not 
had an opportunity to exercise their talents on such a 
subject this long while. But don’t be cast down, belov- 
ed : all will be done in the fear of the Lord.” 

“ Well, I must run my hazard.” 

“ You are determined, then ?” 

“ I am.” 

“ Wilful will do’t,” said Fergus ; — “ but you cannot 
go on foot, and I shall want no horse, as I must march on 
foot at the head of the children of Ivor ; you shall have 
brown Dermid.” 

“ If you will sell him, I shall certainly be much 
obliged.” 

“ If your proud English heart cannot be obliged by a 
gift or loan, 1 will not refuse money at the entrance of a 
campaign : his price is twenty guineas. [Remember, 
reader, it w^as Sixty Years Since.] And when do you 
propose to depart ?” 

“ The sooner the better,” answered Waverley. 

“ You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go 
you will : I will take Flora’s pony, and ride with you 
as far as Bally-Brough. Callum Beg, see that our horses 
are ready, with a pony foi* yourself, to attend and carry 

Mr. Waverley’s baggage as far as (naming a small 

town,) where he can have a horse and guide to Edin- 
burgh. Put on a Lowland dress, Callum, and see you 
keep your tongue close, if you would not have me cut 
it out : Mr. Waverley rides Dermid.” Then turning to 
Edward, “ You will take leave of my sister ?” 

“ Surely — that is, if Miss Mac-Ivor will honour me 
so far.” 

“ Cathlecn, let my sister know Mr. Waverley wishes 
to bid her farewell before he leaves us. But Rose 


WAVE RLE Y. 


211 


Bradvvardine, her situation must be thought of— I wish 
she were here — Ajjd why should she not ? — There are 
but four red-coats at Tully-Veolan, and their muskets 
would be very useful to us.” 

To these broken remarks Edw.ard made no answer ; 
his ear indeed received them, but his soul was intent 
upon the expected entrance of Flora. The door open- 
ed — It was but Cathleen, with her lady’s excuse, and 
wishes 4pr Captain Waverley’s health and happiness. 


CHAPTER XXIX. " 

Wq,verley's Reception in the Lowlands after his High- 
land Tour, 

It was noon when the two friends stood at the top of 
the pass of Bally-Brough. “ I must go no farther,” 
said Fergus Mac-Ivor, who during the journey had in 
vain endeavoured to raise his friend’s spirits. “ If my 
cross-grained sister has any share in your dejection, 
trust me she thinks highly of you, though her present 
anxiety about the public cause prevents her listening to 
any other subject. Confide your interest to me 5 I will 
not betray it, providing you do not again assume that 
vile cockade.” 

“ No fear of that, considering the manner in which it 
has been recalled. Adieu, Fergus ; dp not permit your 
sister to forget me.” 

“ And adieu, Waverley ; you may soon hear of her 
with a prouder title. Get home, write letters, and make 
friends as many and as fast as you can ; there will 
speedily be unexpected guests on the coast of Suflblk, 
or my news from France has deceived me.”^^ 

Thus parted the friends ; Fergus returning back to 
his castle, while Edward, followed by Callum Beg, the 
12 


212 


WAVKRLEY. 


latter transformed from point to point into a Low-country 
groom, proceeded to the little town of . 

Edward paced on under the painful and yet not alto- 
gether embittered feelings, which separation and uncer- 
tainty produce in the mind of a youthful lover. I am 
not sure if the ladies understand the full value of the in- 
fluence of absence, nor do 1 think it wise to teach it 
them, lest, like the Clelias and Mandanes of yore, they 
should resume the humour of sending their lovers into 
banishment. Distance, in truth, produces in idea the 
same effect as in real perspective. Objects are softened, 
and rounded, and rendered doubly graceful ; the harsher 
and more ordinary points of character are mellowed 
down, and tlmse by which it is remembered are the more 
striking outlines that mark sublimity, grace, or beauty. 
There are mists too in the mental, as well as the nat- 
ural horizon, to conceal wliat is less pleasing in dist-ant 
objects, and there are happy lights, to stream in full 
glory upon those points which can profit by brilliant il- 
lumination. 

W uverley forgot Flora Mac-lvor’s prejudices in her 
magnanimity, and almost pardoned her indifference to- 
wards his affection, when he recollected the grand 
and decisive object which seemed to fill her whole soul. 
She, whose sense of duty so wholly engrossed her in 
the cause of a benefactor, what would be her feelings 
in favour of the happy individual who should be so for- 
tunate as to awaken them ? Then came the doubtful 
question, whether he might not be that happy man, — 
a question which fancy endeavoured to answer in the 
affirmative, by conjuring up all she had said in his 
praise, with the addition of a comment much more flat- 
tering than the text warranted. All that was common- 
place, all that belonged to the every-day world, was 
melted away and obliterated in those dreams of imagi- 
nation, which only remembered with advantage the points 
of grace and dignity that distinguished Flora from the 
generality of her sex, not the particulars which she held in 
common with them. Edward was, in short, in the fair 


WAVE RLE Y. 


2J3 


rvay of creating a goddess out of a high-spirited, accom- 
plished, and beautiful young woman ; and the time was 
wasted in castle-building, until, at the descent of a sleep 
hill, he saw beneath him the market-town of . 

^riie Highland politeness of Callum Beg — there are 
few nations, by the way, that can boast of so much nat- 
ural politeness as the Highlanders— the Highland civility 
of his attendant had not permitted him to disturb the 
reveries of our hero. But, observing him rouse himself 
at the sight of the village, Callum pressed closer to his 
side, and hoped “ when they cam to the public, his hon- 
our wad not say nothing about Vich Ian Vohr, for ta 
people were bitter whigs, de’il burst tern.” 

W averley assured the prudent page that he would be 
cautious ; and as he now distinguished, not indeed the 
ringing of bells, but the tinkling of something like a 
hammer against the side of an old mossy, green, invert- 
ed porridge-pot, that hung in an open booth, of the size 
and shape of a parrot’s cage, erected to grace- the east 
end of a building resembling an old barn, he asked Cal- 
lum Beg if it were Sunday. 

“ Could na say just preceesely — Sunday seldom cam 
aboon the pass of Bally-Brough.” 

On entering the town, however, and advancing toward 
the most apparent public-house which presented itself, 
the numbers of old women, in tartan screens and red 
cloaks, who streamed from the barn-resembling building, 
debating as they went, the comparative merits of the 
blessed youth Jabesh Rentowel, and that chosen vessel 
Maister Goukthrapple, induced Callum to assure his 
temporary master, “ that it was either la muckle Sun- 
day hersel, or ta little government Sunday that they ca’d 
ta fast.” 

Upon alighting at the sign of the Seven-branched 
Golden Candlestick, which, for the further delectation of 
the gLvests, was graced with a short Hebrew motto, they 
were received by mine host, a tall thin puritanical figure 
who seemed to debate with himself whether he ought to 
give shelter to those who travelled on such a day. Re- 


214 


WAVERLEY. 


fleeting, however, in all probability, that be possesses 
the power of mulcting them for this irregularity, a pen- 
alty which they might escape by passing into Gregor 
Duncanson’s, at the sign of the Highlander and the 
Hawick Gill, Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks condescended 
to admit them into his dwelling. 

To this sanctified person Waverley addressed his re- 
quest, that he would procure him a guide, with a saddle- 
horse to carry his portmanteau to Edinburgh. 

And whar may ye be coming from demanded 
mine host of the Candlestick. 

, “ I have told you where I wish to go : I do not con- 

ceive any further information necessary either for the 
guide or his saddle-horse.” 

“ Hem ! Ahem !” returned he of the Candlestick, 
somewhat disconcerted at this rebuff. “ It’s the general, 
fast, sir, and 1 cannot enter into ony carnal transactions 
on sic a day, when the people should be humbled, and 
the backsliders should return, as wortiiy Mr. Goukthrop- 
ple said ; and moreover when, as the precious Mr. Jabesh 
Rentowel did weel observe, the land was mourning for 
covenants burnt, broken, and buried.” 

“ My good friend,” said Waverley, “ if you cannot let 
me have a horse and guide, my servant shall seek them 
elsewhere.” 

A weel ! Your servant ? — and what for gangs he 
not forward wi’ you himsel 

Waverley had but very little of a captain of horse’s 
spirit within him — I mean of that sort of spirit which 1 
have been obliged to when I happened, in a mail-coach 
or diligence, to pieet some military man who has kindly 
taken upon him the disciplining of the waiters, and the 
ta^fing of reckonings. Some of this useful talent our 
hero had, however, acquired during his military service, 
and on this gross provocation it began seriously to arise, 
“ Look ye, sir, I came here for my own accommodation 
and not to answer impertinent questions. Either say you 
can, or cannot, get me what 1 want ; I shall pursue my 
course in either case.” 


WAVERLEY. 


215 


Mr. Ebenezer Criiickshanks left the room with some 
indistinct muttering, but whether negative or acquiescent, 
Edward could not well distinguish. The hostess, a civil 
quiet, laborious drudge, came to take his orders for din- 
ner, but declined to make answer on the subject of the 
horse and guide ; for the Salique law, it seems, extended 
to the stables of the Golden Candlestick. 

From a window which overlooked the dark and narrow 
court in which Callum Beg rubbed down the horses after 
their journey, Waverley heard the following dialogue 
betwixt the subtle foot-page of Vich Ian Vohr and his 
landlord: 

“ Ye’ll be frae the north, young man began the 
latter. 

“ And ye may say that,” answered Callum. 

“ And ye’ll hae ridden a lang way the day, it may 
weel be 

“ Sae lang, that I could weel tak a dram.” 

“ Gudewife, bring the gill stoup.” 

Here some compliments passed, fitting the occasion, 
when my host of the Golden Candlestick, having, as he 
thought, opened his guest’s heart by this hospitable pro- 
pitiation, resumed his scrutiny. 

“ Ye’ll no hae mickle better whisky than that aboon 
the Pass 

‘‘ I am nae frae aboon the Pass.” 

“ Ye’re a Highlandman by your tongue 

“ Na, 1 am but just Aberdeen-a-way.” 

“ And did your master come frae Aberdeen wi’ you 

“ Ay — that’s when I left it mysel,” answered the cool 
and impenetrable Callum Beg. 

“ And what kind of a gentleman is he 
I believe he is ane o’ King George’s state officers ; 
at least he’s aye for ganging on to the south, and he has 
a hantle siller, and never grudges ony thing till a poor 
body, or in the way of a lawing.” 

‘‘ He wants a guide and a horse frae hence to Edin- 
burgh 

“ Ay, and ye maun find it him forthwith.” 


216 


WAVERLEY. 


‘‘ Ahem ! It will be chargeable.” 

He cares na for that a bodle.” 

“ Aweel, Duncan — Did ye say your name was Dun- 
can, or Donald 

“ Na, man — Jamie Jamie Steenson — 1 telt ye 

before.” 

This last undaunted parry altogether foiled Mr. Cruick- 
shanks, who, though not quite satisfied either with the 
reserve of the master, or the extreme readiness of the 
man, was contented to lay a tax on the reckoning and 
horsehire, that might compound for his ungratified curios- 
ity. The circumstance of its being the last-day was not 
forgotten in the charge, which, on the whole, did not, 
however, amount to much more than double what in fair- 
ness it should have been. 

Callum Beg soon after announced in person the ratifi- 
cation of this treaty, adding, “ Ta auld deevil was 
ganging to ride wi’ ta Duinhe-wassel hersel.” 

“ That will not be very pleasant, Callum, nor altogeth- 
er safe, for our host seems a person of great curiosity ; 
but a traveller must submit to these inconveniences. 
Meanwhile, my good lad, here is a trifle for you to drink 
Vich Ian Vohr’s health.” 

The hawk’s eye of Callum flashed delight upon a 
golden guinea, with which these last words were accom- 
panied. He hastened, not without a curse on the in- 
tricacies of a Saxon breeches pocket, or spleuclian, as 
he called it, to deposit the treasure in bis fob ; and then, 
as if he conceived the benevolence called for some re- 
quital on his part, he gathered close up to Edward, with 
an expression of countenance peculiarly knowing, and 
spoke in an under tone, “ If his honour thought ta auld 
deevil whig carle was a bit dangerous, she could easily 
provide for him, and teil ane ta wiser.” 

“ How, and in what manner ?” 

“ Her ain sell,” replied Callum, “ could wait for him 
a wee bit frae the toun, and kittle his quarters wi’ her 
skene-occhy 

“ Skene-occle ! what’s that ?” 


WAVERLEY. 


217 


Callum unbuttoned his coat, raised bis left arm, and, 
with an emphatic nod, pointed to the hilt of a small dirk, 
snugly deposited under it, in the lining of his jacket. 
VVaverley thought he had misunderstood his meaning ; 
he gazed in his face, and discovered in Callum’s very 
handsome, though embrowned features, just the degree 
of roguish malice with which a lad of the same age in 
England .would have brought forward a plan for robbing 
an orchard. 

“ Good God, Callum, would you take the man’s life - 
Indeed,” answered the young desperado, “ and 1 
think he has had just a lang enough lease o’t, when he’s 
for betraying honest folk, th^it come to spend siller at his 
public.” 

Edward saw nothing was to be gained by argument, 
and therefore contented himself with enjoining Callum 
to lay aside all practices against the person of Mr. Ebeii- 
ezer Cruickshanks, in which injunction the page seemed 
to acquiesce with an air of great indifference. 

“ Ta Duinhe-wassel might please himsel ; ta auld 
rudas loon had never done Callum nae ill. But here’s 
a bit line frae ta Tighearna, tat he bade me gie your 
honour ere I came back.” 

The letter from the Chief contained Flora’s lines on 
the fate of Captain Wogan, whose enterprizing character 
is so well drawn by Clarendon. He had originally en- 
gaged in the service of the Parliament, but had abjured 
that party upon the execution of Charles I., and upon 
hearing that the royal standard was set up by the Earl of 
Glencairn and General Middleton, in the Highlands of 
Scotland, took leave of Charles II. who was then at 
Paris, passed into England, assembled a body of Cava- 
liers in the neighbourhood of London, and traversed the 
kingdom, which had been so long under domination of 
the usurper, by marches conducted with such skill, dex- 
terity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of 
horsemen with the body of Highlanders then m arms. 
After several months of desultory w^arfare, in which Wo- 

VOL. 1. ' 


218 


WAVEKtET. 


gan’s skill and courage gained liim the highest reputa- 
tion, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a danger- 
ous manner, and no surgical assistance being within 
reach, he terminated his short but glorious career. 

There were obvious reasons why the politic Chieftain 
was desirous to place the example of this young hero 
under the eye of Waverley, with whose romantic dispo- 
sition it coincided so peculiarly. But his letter turned 
chiefly upon some trifling commissions which Waverley 
had promised to execute for him in England, and it was 
only toward the conclusion that Edward found these 
words : — “ 1 owe Flora a grudge for refusing us her 
company yesterday ; and as 1 am giving you the trouble 
of reading these lines, in order to keep in your memory 
your promise to procure me the fishing-tackle and cross- 
bow from London, Twill enclose her verses on the Grave 
of Wogan. This I know will teaze her ; for, to tell you 
the truth, I think her more in love with the memory of 
that dead hero, than she is likely to be with any living 
one, unless he shall tread a similar path. But English 
squires of our day keep their oak-trees to shelter theii 
deer parks, or repair the losses of an evening at White’sj 
and neither invoke them to wreath their brows, or shelter 
their graves. Let me hope for one brilliant exception 
in a dfear friend, to whom 1 would most gladly give a 
dearer title.” 

The verses were inscribed, 

TO AN OAK TREE, 


IN THE CHURGH-YARD OF , IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND, SAW 

TO MARK THE GRAVE OF CAPTAIN WOGAN, KILLED IN 1643 . 

Emblem of England’s ancient faith. 

Full proudly may thy branches wa ve, 

Whore loyalty lies low in death. 

And valour fills a timeless grave. 

And thou, brave tenant of the tomb J 
Repine not if our clime deny, 


WAVERLEY 


219 


Above thine honour’d sod to bloom, 

The flowrets of a milder sky. 

These owe their birth to genial May ; 

Beneath a fiercer sun they pine, 

Before the winter storm decay — 

And can their worth be type of thine ? 

No ! for, mid storms of Fate opposing, 

Still higher swell’d thy dauntless heart. 

And, while Despair tlie scene was closing, 

Commenced thy brief but brilliant part. 

HTwas then thou sought’st on Albyn’s hill, 

(When England’s sons the strife resign’d,) 

A rugged race resisting still. 

An unsubdued though unrefined. 

Thy death’s hour heard no kindred wail. 

No holy knell thy requiem rung ; 

Thy mourners were the plaided Gael, 

Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung. 

Yet who, in Fortune’s summer-shine 
1 o waste life’s longest term aw ay. 

Would change that glorious dawn of thine. 

Though darken’d ere its noontide day 1 

Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs 
Brave summer’s drought and winter’s gloom ; 

Rome txxind with oak her patriots’ brows. 

As Albyn shadows Wogan’s tomb. 

Whatever might be the real merit of Flora Mac-Ivor’s 
poetry, the enthusiasm which it intimated was well cal- 
culated to make a corresponding impression upon her 
lover. The lines were read — read again — then depos- 
ited in Waverley’s bosom — then again drawn out, and 
read line by line, in a low and smothered voice, and with 
frequent pauses which prolonged the mental treat, as an 
Epicure protracts, by sipping slowly, the enjoyment of a 
delicious beverage. Tiie entrance of Mrs. Cruick- 
shanks, with the sublunary articles of dinner and wine 


220 


WAYERtEY. 


hardly interruDted this pantomime of affectionate enthu- 
siasm. 

At length the tall ungainly figure and ungracious vis- 
age of Ebenezer presented themselves. The upper 
part of his form, notwithstanding the season required no 
such defence, was shrouded in a large great-coat, belted 
over his under habiliments, and crested with a huge cowl 
of the same stuff, which, when drawn over the head and 
hat, completely overshadowed both, and being buttoned 
beneath the chin, was called a trot-cozy. His hand 
grasped a huge jockey-whip, garnished with brass mount 
ing. His thin legs tenanted a pair of gambadoes, fast- 
ened at the sides with rusty clasps. Thus accoutred, he 
stalked into the midst of the apartment, and announced 
his errand in brief phrase : — “ Ye’re horses are ready.” 

“ You go with me yourself then, landlord 

“ I do, as far as Perth ; where ye may be supplied 
with a guide to Embro’, as your occasions shall require.” 

Thus saying, he placed under Waverley’s eye the bill 
which he held in his hand ; and at the same time, self- 
invited, filled a glass of wine, and drank devoutly to a 
blessing on their journey. Waverley stared at the man’s 
impudence, but, as their connection was to be short, and 
promised to be convenient, he made no observation upon 
it ; and, having paid his reckoning, expressed his inten- 
tion to depart immediately. He mounted Dermid ac- 
cordingly, and sallied forth from the Golden Candlestick, 
followed by the puritanical figure we have described, 
after he had, at the expense of some time and difiiculty, 
and by the assistance of a “ louping-pn-stane,” or struc- 
ture of masonry erected for the traveller’s convenience 
in front of the house, elevated his person to the back of 
a long-backed, raw-boned, thin-gutted phantom of a 
broken-down blood-horse, on which W averley’s portman- 
teau was deposited. Our hero, though not in a very gay 
humrur, could hardly help laughing at the appearance of 
his new squire, and at imagining the astonishment which 
his person and equipage would have excited at VVaverley- 
Honour. 


WAVERLEY. 


221 


Edward’s tendency to mirth did not escape mine host 
of the Candlestick, who, conscious of the cause, infused 
a double portion of souring into the pharasaical leaven 
of his countenance, and resolved internally that, in one 
way or other, the youn^ Englisher should pay dearly for 
the contempt with which he seemed to regard him. 
Callum also stood at the gate, and enjoyed, with undis- 
sembled glee, the ridiculous figure of Mr. Cruickshanks. 
As Waverley passed him, he pulled off his hat respect- 
fully, and, approaching his stirrup, bade him “ Tak heed 
the auld whig deevil played him nae cantrip.” 

Waverley once more thanked, and bade him farewell, 
and then rode briskly onward, not sorry to be out of 
hearing of the shouts of the children, as they beheld old 
Ebenezer rise and sink in his stirrups, to avoid the con- 
cussions occasioned by a hard trot upon a half-paved 
street. The village of was soon several miles be- 

hind him. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Shows that the Loss of a Horse*s Shoe may he a serious 
Inconvenience. 

The manner and air of Waverley, but, above all, the 
glittering contents of his purse, and the indifference with 
which he seemed to regard them, somewhat overawed 
his companion, and deterred him from making any at- 
tempts to enter upon conversation. His own reflections 
were moreover agitated by various surmises, and by plans 
of self-interest, with which these were intimately con- 
nected. The travellers journeyed, therefore, in silence, 
until It was interrupted by the annunciation, on the pari 
of the guide, that his “ naig had lost a fore-foot shoe, 

VOL i. 


222 


AVAVERLEY. 


which, doubtless, his honour would consider it was hia 
part to replace.” This was what lawyers call a fishing 
question, calculated to ascertain how far Waverley was 
disposed to submit to petty imposition. “ My part to 
replace your horse’s shoe, you rascal !” said Waverley, 
mistaking the purport of the intimation. 

“ Indubitably,” answered Mr. Cruickshanks ; “though 
there was no preceese clause to that effect, it canna be ex- 
pected that I am to pay for the casualties whilk may be- 
fall the puir naig while in your honour’s service. — Nath- 
less if your honour” 

“ O, you mean I am to pay the farrier ; but where 
shall we find one ?” 

Rejoiced at discerning there would be no objections 
made on the part of his temporary master, Mr Cruick- 
shanks assured him that Cairnvreckan, a village which 
they were about to enter, was happy in an excellent 
blacksmith ; “ but as he was a professor, he would drive 
a nail for no man on the Sabbath, or kirk-fast, unless it 
were in a case of absolute necessity, for which he always 
charged sixpence each shoe.” The most important part 
of this communication, in the opinion of the speaker, 
made a very slight impression on the hearer, who only 
internally wondered vvhat college this veterinary profes- 
sor belonged to ; not aware that the word was used to 
denote any person who pretended to uncommon sanctity 
of faith and manner. 

As they entered the village of Cairnvreckan, they 
speedily distinguished the smith’s house. Being also a 
'public, it was two stories h'igh, and proudly reared it? 
crest, covered with grey slate, above the thatched hovels 
by w'hich it was surrounded. The adjoining smithy be- 
tokened none of the Sabbatical silence and repose w hich 
Ebenezer had augured from the sanctity of his friend. 
On the contrary, hammer clashed and anvil rang, the 
bellows groaned, and the whole apparatus of Vulcan ap- 
peared to be in full activity. Nor was the labour of a 
rural and pacific nature. The master smith, benempt. 
as his sign intimated, John Mucklewraih, with two assist- 


>VAVERLET. 


223 


ants, toiled busily in arranging, repairing, and furbishing 
old muskets, pistols, and swords, which lay scattered 
around his work-shop in military confusion. The open 
shed, containing the forge, was crowded with persons 
who came and went as if receiving and communicating 
important news ; and a single glance at the aspect of the 
people who traversed the street in haste, or stood as- 
sembled in groups, with eyes elevated, and hands up- 
lifted, announced that some extraordinary intelligence 
was agitating the public mind of the municipality of 
Cairnvreckan. “ There is some news,” said mine host 
of the Candlestick, pushing his lantern-jawed visage 
and bare-boned nag rudely forward into the crowd — 

there is some news, and if it please my Creator, I 
will fortliwith obtain speerings thereof.” 

Waverley, with better regulated curiosity than his at- 
tendant’s,dismounted,and gave his horse to a boy who 
stood idling near. It arose, perhaps, from the shyness 
of his character in early youth, that he felt dislike at 
applying to a stranger even for casual information, with- 
out previously glancing at his physiognomy and appear- 
ance. While he looked about in order to select the per- 
son with whom he would most willingly hold communi- 
cation, the buzz around saved him in some degree the 
trouble of interrogatories. The names of Lochiel, Clan- 
ronald. Glengarry, and other distinguished Highland 
Chiefs, among whom Vich Ian Vohr was repeatedly 
mentioned, were as familiar in men’s mouths as house- 
hold words ; and from the alarm generally expressed, 
he easily conceived that their descent into the Lowlands, 
at the head of their armed tribes, had either already 
taken place, or was instantly apprehended. 

Ere Waverley could ask particulars, a strong, large- 
boned, hard-featured woman, about forty, dressed as if 
her clothes had been flung on with a pitchfork, her cheeks 
flushed with a scarlet red where they were not smutted 
with soot and lamp-black, jostled through the crowd, 
and, brandishing high a child of two years old, which 


224 


WAVERLEY. 


she danced in her arms, without regard to its screams 
of terror, sang forth, with all her might, — 

“ Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling, 

Charlie is mj' darling. 

The young Chevalier.” 

“ D’ye hear what’s come ower ye now,” continued 
the virago, “ ye whingeing whig carles ? D’ye hear wha’s 
coming to cow yer cracks ? 

Little wot ye wha’s coming, 

Little wot ye wha’s coming, 

A’ the wild Macraws are coming.” 

The Vulcan of Cairnvreckan, who acknowledged his 
Venus in this exulting Bacchante, regarded her with a 
grim and ire-foreboding countenance, while some of the 
senators of the village hastened to interpose. “ Whisht, 
gudewife ; is this a time, or is this a day, to be singing 
your ranting fule sangs in ? — a time when the wine of 
wrath is poured out without mixture in the cup of indig- 
nation, and a day when the land should give testimony 
against popery, and prelacy, and quakerism, and inde- 
pendency, and supremacy, and erastianism, and antino- 
mianism, and a’ the errors of the church?” 

‘‘ And that’s a’ your whiggery,” re-echoed the Jacobite 
heroine ; “ that’s a’ your whiggery, and your presbytery, 
ye cut-lugged, graning carles ! What ! d’ye think the lads 
wi’the kilts will care for yer synods and yer presbyteries, 
and yer buttock-mail, and yer stool o’ repentance ? 
Vengeance on the black face o’t ! mony an honester 
woman’s been set upon it than streeks doon beside ony 
whig in the country. I mysel ” 

Here John Mucklewrath, who dreaded her entering 
upon a detail of personal experience, interposed his 

matrimonial authority. “ Gae hame, and be d , 

(that I .should say sae) and put on the sowens for supper.” 

“ And you, ye doil’d dotard,” replied his gentle help- 
mate, her wrath, which had hitherto wandered abroad 
over the whole assembly, being at once and violently 


WAVE RLE T. 


223 


impelled into its natural channel, “ ye stand there ham- 
mering dog-heads for fules that will never snap them at 
a Higlilandman, 'instead of earning bread for your family 
and shoeing this v/insome young gentleman’s horse that’s 
just come frae the north! I’se warrant him nane of your 
whingeing King George folk, but a gallant Gordon, at 
the least o’ him.” 

The eyes of the assembly were now turned upon Wa- 
verley, who took the opportunity to beg the smith to shoe 
his guide’s horse with all speed, as he wished to proceed 
on his journey ; for he had heard enough to make him 
sensible that there would be danger in delaying long in 
this place. The smith’s eyes rested on him with a look 
of displeasure and suspicion, not lessened by the eager- 
ness with which his wife enforced Waverley’s mandate. 
‘‘ D’ye hear what the weel-favoured young gentleman 
says, ye drunken ne’er-do-good V' 

“ And what may your name be, slr.^” quoth Muckle- 
wrath. 

‘‘ It is of no consequence to you, my friend, provided 
I pay your labour.” 

“ But it may be of consequence to the state, sir,” 
replied an old farmer, smelling strongly of whisky and 
peat-smoke ; “ and I doubt we maun delay your jour- 
ney till you have seen the laird.” 

“ You certainly,” said Waverley, haughtily, will 
find it both difficult and dangerous to detain me, unless 
you can produce some proper authority.” 

There was a pause, and a whisper among the crowd 
— “ Secretary Murray “ Lord Lewis Gordon “ May 
be the Chevalier himsel!” Such were the surmises that 
passed hurriedly among them, and there was obviously 
an increased disposition to resist Wavtrley’s departure. 
He attempted to argue mildly with them, but his volun- 
tary ally, Mrs. Mucklewrath, broke in upon and drown- 
ed his expostulations, taking his part with an abusive 
violence, which was all set down to Edward’s account 
by those on whom it was bestowed. ‘‘ YeHl stop ony 
gentleman that’s the Prince’s freend for she too, 


226 


WAVERLET. 


though with other feelings, had adopted the general opin* 
ion respecting Waverley. “ I daur ye to touch him,’ 
spreading abroad her long and muscular .fingers, garnish- 
ed with claws which a vulture might have envied. ‘‘ I’ll 
set my ten commandments in the face o’ the first loon 
that lays a finger on him.” 

‘ Gae hame, gudewife,” quoth the farmer aforesaid ; 
“ it wad better set you to be •'nursing the gudeman’s 
bairns than to be deaving us here.” 

“ His bairns retorted the Amazon, regarding her 
husband with a grin of ineffable contempt — “ His bairns ! 

" O gin ye were dead, gudeman, 

And a green lurf on your head, gudeman I 
Then I wad ware m^’^ widowhood 
Upon a ranting Highlandman.” 


This canticle, which excited a suppressed titter among 
the younger part of the audience, totally overcame the 
patience of the taunted man of the anvil. “ De’il be 
in me but I’ll put this bet gad down her throat!” cried 
he,in an ecstacy of wrath, snatching a bar from the forge; 
and he might have executed his threat, had he not been 
withheld by a part of the mob, while the rest endeav- 
oured to force the termagant out of his presence. 

Waverley meditated a retreat in the confusion, but his 
horse was no where to be seen. At length he observed, 
at some distance, his faithful attendant, Ebenezer, who, 
as soon as he had perceived the turn matters were 
likely to take, had withdrawn both horses from the press, 
and, mounted on the one, and holding the other, answer- 
ed the loud and repeated calls of W’^averley for his horse, 
“ Na, na ! if ye are nae friend to kirk and the king, and 
are detained as siccan a person, ye maun answer to hon- 
est men of the country for breach of contract ; and I 
maun keep the naig and the walise for damage and ex- 
pense, in respect my horse and mysel will lose to-mor- 
row’s. day’s-wark, besides the afternoon preaching.” 

Edward, out of patience, hemmed in and hustled by the 
rjibble on every side, and every moment expecting per- 


WAVERLEY. 


227 


sonal violence, resolved to try measures of intimidation, 
and at length drew a pocket-pistol, threatening, on the 
one hand, to shoot whomsoever dared to stop him, and 
on the other, menacing Ehcnezer with a similar doofn. 
if he stirred a foot with the horses. The sapient Part- 
ridge says, that one man with a pistol, is equal to a hun- 
dred unarmed, because, though he can shoot but one of 
the multitude, yet no one knows but that he himself may 
be that luckless individual. Tlie levy en masse of Cairn- 
vreckan would therefore probably have given way, nor 
would Ebenezer, whose natural paleness had waxed 
three shades more cadaverous, have ventured to dispute 
a mandate so enforced, had not the Vulcan of the vil- 
lage, eager to discharge uj)on some more worthy object 
the fury which his helpmate had provoked, and not ill 
satisfied to find such an object in Waverley, rushed at 
him with the red-hot bar of iron, with such determination, 
as made the discharge of his pistol an act of self-defence. 
The unfortunate man fell ; and while Edward, thrilled 
with a natural horror at the incident, neither had pres- 
ence of mind to unsheath his sword, nor to draw his 
remaining pistol, the populace threw themselves upon 
him, disarmed him, and were about to use him with 
great violence, when the appearance of a venerable 
clergyman, the pastor of the parish, put a curb upon 
their fury. 

This worthy man (none of the Goukthrapples or Ren- 
towels) maintained his character with the common peo- 
ple, although he preached the practical fruits of Christian 
faith, as well as its abstract tenets, and w’as respected by 
the higher orders, notwaths^-anding he declined soothing 
their speculative errors by converting the- pulpit of the 
gospel into a school of heathen morality. Perhaps it is 
owing to this mixture of faith and practice in his doc- 
trine, that, although his memory has formed a sort of 
era in the annals of Cairnvreckan, so that the parishion- 
ers, to denote what befell Sixty Years Since, still say it 
happened “ in good Mr. Morton’s time,” I have never 
been able to discover Which he belonged to, the evan- 


WAVERLEY. 


'US 


gelical or themoderate party in lliR kirk. Nor do I hold 
the circumstance of much moment, since, in my own 
remembrance, the one was headed by an Erskine, the 
other by a Robertson.'^^ 

Mr. Morton had been alarmed by the discharge of the 
pistol, and the increasing hubbub around the smithy. 
His first attention, after he had directed the bystanders 
to detain Waverley, but to abstain from injuring him, 
was turned to the body of Mucklewrath, over which his 
wife, in a revulsion of feeling, was weeping, howling, 
and tearing her elf-locks, in a state little sliort of dis- 
traction. Upon raising up the smith, the first discovery 
was, that he was alive ; and the next, that he was likely 
to live a^ long as if he had never heard the report of a 
pistol in his life. He had made a narrow escape, how- 
ever ; the bullet had grazed his head, and stunned him 
for a moment or two, which trance, terror and confusion 
of spirit had prolonged somewhat longer. He now arose 
to demand vengeance on the person of Waverley, and 
with difficulty acfpiiesced in the proposal of Mr. Morton, 
that he should be carried before the laird, as a justice 
of peace, and placed at his disposal. The rest of the 
assistants unanimously agreed to the measure recom- 
mended ;andevenMrs. Mucklewrath, who had begun to 
recover from her hysterics, whimpered forth, — “ She 
wadna say naething against what the minister proposed ; 
he was e’en ower glide for his trade, and she hoped to 
see him wi’ a dainty decent bishop’s gown on his back ; 
a comelier sight than your Geneva cloaks and bands, 
I wis.” 

All controversy being thus laid aside, Waverley, es- 
corted by the whole inhabitants of the village, who were 
not bed-ridden, was conducted to the house of Cairn 
vreckan, which was about half a mile distant. 


WAVEllLET. 


229 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

An Examination, 

Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, an elderly gen- 
tleman, who had spent his youth in the military service, 
received Mr. JVIorton with great kindness, and our hero 
with civility, which the equivocal circumstances wherein 
Edward was placed, rendered constrained and distant. 

The nature of the smith’s hurt was inqtiired into, and 
as the actual injury was likely to prove trifling, and the 
circumstances in which it was received, rendered the 
infliction, on Edward’s part, a natural act of self-defence, 
the Major conceived he might dismiss that matter, on 
Waverley’s ^despositing in his hands a small sum for the 
benefit of the wounded person. 

“ I could wish, sir,” continued the Major, “ that my 
duty terminated here ; but it is necessary that we should 
have some further inquiry into the cause of your journey 
through the country at this unfortunate and distracted 
time.” * 

Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks now stood forth, and com- 
municated to the magistrate all he knew or suspected, 
from the reserve of Waverley, and the evasions of Gal- 
ium Beg. The horse upon which Edward rode, he 
said, he knew to belong to Vich Ian Vohr, though he 
dared not tax Edward’s former attendant with the fact, 
lest he should have his house and stables burnt over his 
head some night by that godless gang, the ]\Iac-lvors. 
He concluded by exaggerating his own services to kirk 
and state, as having been the means, under God, (as he 
modestly qualified the assertion) of attaching this suspi:- 
ious and formidable delinquent. He intimated hopes of 
future reward, and of instant reimbursement for loss of 

VOL. I. 


230 


WAVE RLE r. 


time, and even of character, by travelling on the state 
business on the fast-day. 

To this Major Melville answered, with great compo- 
sure, that so far from claiming any merit in this affair, 
Mr. Cruickshanks ought to deprecate the imposition of 
a very heavy fine for neglecting to lodge, in terms of the 
recent proclamation, an account with the nearest magis- 
trate of any stranger who came to his inn ; that, as Mr. 
Cruickshanks boasted so much of religion and loyalty, 
he should not impute this conduct to disaffection, but 
only suppose that his zeal for kirk and state had been 
lulled asleep by the opportunity of charging a stranger 
with double horse-hire ; that, however, feeling himself 
incompetent to decide singly upon the conduct of a per- 
son of such importance, he should reserve it for consid- 
eration of the next quarter-sessions. Now our history 
for the present saith no more of him of the Candlestick, 
who wended dolorous and malcontent back to his own 
dwelling. 

Major Melville then commanded the villagers to 're- 
turn to their homes, excepting two, who officiated as 
constables, and whom he directed to wait below. The 
apartment was thus cleared of every person but Mr. 
Morton, whom the Major invited to remain ; a sort of 
factor, who acted as clerk; and Waverley • himself. 
There ensued a painful and embarrassed pause, till Ma- 
jor Melville, looking upon Waverley with much compas- 
sion, and often consulting a paper or memorandum which 
he held in his hand, requested to know his name. — 

“ Edward Waverley.” 

‘‘ I thought so ; late of the dragoons, and neph- 

ew of Sir Everard Waverley, of Waverley-Honour r” 

“ The same.” 

“ Young geiiffeman, I am extremely sorry that this 
painful duty has fallen to my lot.” 

‘‘ Duty, Major Melville, renders apologies superfluous.” 

“ True, sir ; permit me, therefore, to ask you how 
your time has been disposed of since you obtained leave 


WAVERLEY. 


231 


of absence from your regiment, several weeks ago, until 
the present moment ?” 

“ My reply,” said VVaverley, “ to so general a question 
must-be guided by the nature of the charge which renders 
it necessary. I request to know what that charge is, and 
upon what authority I am forcibly detained to reply to it ?” 

“ The charge, Mr. Waverley, I grieve to say, is of a 
very high nature, and affects your character both as a 
soldier and a subject. In the former capacity, you are 
charged with spreading mutiny and rebellion among the 
men you commanded, and setting them the example of 
desertion, by prolonging your own absence from the reg- 
iment, contrary to the express orders of your command- 
ing officer. The civil crime of which you stand accused 
is that of high-treason, and levying war against the king, 
the highest delinquency of which a subject can be 
guilty.” 

“ And by what authority am I detained to reply to 
such heinous calumnies 

By one which you must not dispute, nor I disobey.” 

He handed to Waverley a warrant from the Supreme 
Criminal Court of Scotland, in full form, for apprehend- 
ing and securing the person of Edward Waverley, Esq. 
suspected of treasonable practices, and other high crimes 
and misdemeanours. 

The astonishment which Waverley expressed at this 
communication was imputed by Major Melville to con- 
scious guilt, while Mr. Morton was rather disposed to 
construe it into the surprise of innocence unjustly sus- 
pected. There was something true in both conjectures ; 
for although Edward’s mind acquitted him of the crimes 
with which he was charged, yet a hasty review of his 
own conduct convinced "him he might have great difficulty 
in establishing his innocence to the satisM’lion of others. 

“ It is a very painful part of this painful business ” 
said Major Melville, after a pause, “ that, under so grave 
a charge, I must necessarily request to see such papers as 
you have on your person.” 


232 


WAVERLEY. 


‘‘You shall, sir, without reserve,” said Edward, throwing 
his pocket-book and memorandums upon the table; “there 
is but one with which I could wish you would dispense.” 

“ 1 am afraid, Mr. Waverley, 1 can indulge you with 
no reservation.” 

“ You shall see it then, sir ; and as it can be of no 
service, 1 beg it may be returned.” 

He took from his bosom the lines he had that morn- 
ing received, and presented them with the envelope. 
The Major perused them in silence, and directed his 
clerk to make a copy of them. He then wrapped the 
copy in the envelope, and placing it on the table before 
him, returned the original to Waverley, with an air of 
melancholy gravity. 

After indulging the prisoner, for such our hero must 
now be considered, with what he thought a reasonable 
time -for reflection. Major Melville resumed his examina- 
tion, premising, that as Mr. Waverley seemed to object 
to general questions, his interrogatories should be as 
specific as his information permitted. He then proceed- 
ed in his investigation, dictating, as he went on, the im- 
port of the questions and answers to the amanuensis, by 
whom it was written down. 

“ Did Mr. Waverley know one Humphry Houghton, a 
non-commissioned officer in Gardiner’s dragoons 

“ Certainly ; he was sergeant of my troop, and son of 
a tenant of my uncle.” 

“ Exactly — and had a considerable share of your 
confidence, and an influence among his comrades f” 

“ I had never occasion to^epose confidence in a person 
of his description,” answered Waverley. “ I favoured 
Sergeant Houghton as a clever, active young fellow, and I 
believe his fellow-soldiers respected him accordingly.” 

“ But you fied through this man,” answered Major 
Melville, “ to communicate with such of your troop as 
were recruited upon Waverley-Honour ?” 

“ Certainly ; the poor fellows, finding themselves in a 
regiment chiefly composed of Scotch or Irish, looked up 
to me in any of their little distresses, and naturally made 


WAVERLEY. 


233 


their countryman, and sergeant, their spokesman on such 
occasions.” 

“ Sergeant Houghton’s influence,” continued the Major, 
‘‘ extended, then, particularly over those soldiers who 
followed you to the regiment from your uncle’s estate ?” 
“ Surely ; — but what is that to the present purpose ?” 
“Tothatlam justcoming, and I beseech your candid re- 
ply. Have you, since leaving the regiment, held any corres- 
pondence, direct or indirect, with this Sergeant Houghton 
“ I ! — 1 hold correspondence with a man of his rank 
and situation ! — How, or for what purpose?” 

“ That you are to explain ; — but did you not, for ex- 
ample, send to him for some nooks ?” 

“ You remind me of a triJ^ing commission,” said Wa- 
verley, “ which J gave Sergeant Houghton, because my 
servant could not read. I do recollect 1 bade him, by 
letter, select some books, of which 1 sent him a list, and 
send them to me at Tully-Veolan.” 

And of what description were those books ?” 

“ They related almost entirely .to elegant literature : 
they were designed for a lady’s perusal.” 

“ Were there not, Mr. VVaverley, treasonable tracts 
and pamphlets among them 

“ There were some political treatises, into which 1 
hardly looked. They had been sent to me by the ofTi- 
ciousness of a kind friend, \vhose heart is more to be 
esteemed than his prudence or political sagacity : they 
seemed to be dull compositions.” 

“ That friend,” continued the persevering inquirer, 
“ was a Mr. Pembroke, a nonjuring clergyman, tlie author 
of two treasonable works, of which the manuscripts were 
found among your baggage?” 

“ But of which, I give you my honour as a gentleman,’ 
replied Waverley, “ I never read six pages.” 

“ I am not your judge, Mr. Waverley ; your exami- 
nation will be transmitted elsewhere. And now to pro- 
ceed — Do you know a person that passes by the name 
of Wily Will, or Will Ruthven 

“ ] never heard of such a name till this moment.” 


VOL. I. 


234 


WAVERLEY. 


Did you never through such a person, or any other 
person, communicate with Serjeant Humphry Houghton, 
instigating him to desert, with as many of hie comrades 
as he could seduce to join him, and unite with the High- 
landers and other rebels now in arms, under the com- 
mand of the young Pretender f” 

“ 1 assure you 1 am not only entirely guiltless of the 
plot you have laid to my charge, but J detest it from the 
very bottom of my soul, nor would I be guilty of such 
treachery to gain a throne, either for myself or any other 
man alive.” 

“ Yet when 1 consider this envelope in the hand-writ- 
ing of one of those misguided gentlemen who are now 
in arms against their country, and the verses which it 
enclosed, I cannot but find some analogy between the 
enterprize I have mentioned and the exploit of Wogan, 
which the writer seems to expect you should imitate.” 

Waverley was struck with the coincidence, but denied 
that the wishes or expectations of the letter-writer were 
to be regarded as proofs of a charge otherwise chi- 
merical. 

‘‘ But, if I am rightly informed, your time was spent, 
during your absence from the regiment, between the 
house of this Highland Chieftain, and that of Mr. Brad- 
wardine, of Bradwardine, also in arms for this unfortu- 
nate cause .^” 

“ I do not mean to disguise it ; but I do deny, most 
resolutely, being privy to any of their designs against the 
government.” 

“ You do not, however, I presume, intend to deny, 
that you attended your host Glennaquoich to a rendez- 
vous, where, under pretence of a general hunting match, 
most of the accomplices of his treason were assembled 
to concert measures for taking arms f” 

“ 1 acknowledge having been at such a meeting,” said 
Waverley; “ but 1 neither heard nor saw anything which 
could give it the character you affix to it.” 

From thence you proceeded,” continued the magis- 
trate, “ with Glennaquoich and a part of his clan, to join 


WAVE RLE Y. 


235 


llie army of the young Pretender, and returned after hav- 
ing paid your homage to him, to discipline and arm the re- 
mainder, and unite them tq his bands on their wav south- 
ward 

“ I ne^mr went with Glennaquoich on such an errand. 
I never so much as heard tliat the person whom you 
mention was in the country.” 

He then detailed the history of his misfortune at the 
hunting match, and added, that on his return he found 
himsell suddenly deprived of his commission, and did 
not deny that he then, for the first time, observed symp- 
toms which indicated a disposition in the Highlanders to 
take arms ; but added, that having no inclination to join 
their cause, and no longer any reason for remaining in 
Scotland, he was now on liis return to his native country, 
to which he had been summoned by those who had a 
right to direct his motions, as Major Melville would 
perceive from the letters on the table. 

Major Melville accordingly perused the letters of 
Richard Waverley, of Sir Everard, and of Aunt Ra- 
chel, but the inferences he drew from them were differ- 
ent from what Waverley expected. They held the lan- 
guage of discontent with government, threw out no 
obscure hints of revenge, and that of poor Aunt Rachel, 
which plainly asserted the justice of the Stuart cause, 
was held to contain the open avowal of what the others 
only ventured to insinuate. 

“ Permit me another question, Mr.Waverley,” said Ma- 
jor Melville, — “ Did you not receive repeated letters from 
your commanding-officer, warning you and commanding 
you to return to your post, and acquainting you with the 
use made of your name to spread discontent among your 
soldiers 

“ I never did. Major Melville. One 1^^, indeed, I re- 
ceived from him, containing a civil intiiimnon of his wish 
that I would employ my leave of absence otherwbe than in 
constant residence at Bradwardine, as to which, 1 own, I. 
thought he was not called on to interfere ; and, finally, I 
received, on the same day on which I observed myself 
superseded in the Gazette, a second letter from Colonel 
13 ■ • - - ■' 


236 


^YAVEllLEY. 


Gardiner, commanding me to join the regiment, an oraer 
which, owing to m}^ absence, already mentioned and ac 
counted for, I receiv^ed loo late to be obeyed. If there 
were any intermediate letters, and certainly from the 
Colonel’s high character 1 think it probable that there 
were, they have never reached me.” 

“ I have omitted, Mr. VVaverley,” continued Major 
Melville, “ to inquire after a matter of less consequence, 
but which has nevertheless been publicly talked of to 
your disadvantage. It is said, that a treasonable toast 
having been proposed in your hearing and presence, you, 
holding his Majesty’s commission, suffered the task of 
resenting it to devolve upon another gentleman of the 
company. This, sir, cannot be charged against you in a 
court of justice ; but if, as I am informed, the officers 
of your regiment requested an explanation of such a ru- 
mour, as a gentleman and a soldier, I cannot but be sur- 
prised that you did not afford it to them.” 

This was too much. Beset and pressed on every 
hand by accusations, in which gross falsehoods were 
blended with such circumstances of truth as could not 
fail to procure them credit, — alone, iinfriendeil, and in a 
strange land, Waverley almost gave up his life and lion- 
our for lost, and, leaning his head upon his hand, reso- 
lutely refused to answer any further questions, since the 
fair^nd candid statement he had already made had only 
served to furnish arms against him. 

Without expressing either surprise or displeasure at 
the change in Waverley’s manner. Major Melville pro- 
ceeded composedly to put several other queries to him. 
“What does it avail me to answer you?” said Kdward sul- 
lenly. “You appear convinced of my guilt, and wresv 
e\ ery reply 1 h^ made to support your own preconceived 
opinion. EnjoUpur supposed triumph, then, and torment 
me no further. If I am capable of the cowardice and 
treachery your charge burdens me with, I am not worthy 
to be believed in any reply 1 can make you. If I am not 
deserving of your suspicion — and God and my own con- 
science bear evidence with me that it is so — then I do not 
see- why I should, by my candour, lend any accusers arms 


M’AVERLEY. 


237 


ngainst my innocence. There is no reason I should an- 
swer a word more, and I am determined to abide by this 
resolution.” And again he resumed his posture of sullen 
and determined silence. 

“ Allow me,” said the magistrate, “ to remind you 
of one reason that may suggest the propriety of a can- 
did and open confession. The inexperience of youth, 
Mr. Waverley, lays it open to the plans of the more de- 
signing and artful ; and one of your friends at least — I 
mean Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich — ranks high in the lat- 
ter class, as, from your- apparent ingenuousness, youth, 
and unacquaintance with the manners of the Highlands, I 
should be disposed to place you among the former. 
In such a case, a false step, or error like yours, which I 
shall be happy to consider as involuntary, may be atoned 
for, and I would willingly act as intercessor. But as 
you must necessarily be acquainted with the strength of 
the individuals in this country who have assumed arms, 
with their means, and with their plans, I must expect you 
will merit this mediation on my part by a frank and can- 
did avowal of all that has come to your knowledge upon 
these heads. In which case, I think I can venture to 
promise that a very short personal restraint will be the 
only ill consequence that can arise from your accession 
to these unhappy intrigues.” 

Waverley listened with great composure until the end 
of this exhortation, when, springing from his seat, with 
an energy he had not yet displayed, he replied, 
“ Major Melville, since that is your name, I have hith- 
erto answered your questions with candour, or declined 
them with temper, because their import concerned my- 
self alone ; but as you presume to esteem me mean 
enough to commence informer agains^^hers, who re- 
ceived me, whatever may be their puIR misconduct, 
as a guest and friend, — 1 declare to you that I consider 
your questions as an insult inlinitely more olFensive^than 
your calumnious suspicions ; and that, since my hard 
fortune permits me no other mode of resenting them than 
by verbal dedance, you should sooner have my heart 
out of my bosom, than a single syllable of information 


23S 


WAVERIEY. 


upon subjects which I could only become acquainted 
with in the full confidence of unsuspecting hospitality.” 

Mr. Morton and the Major looked at each other, and 
the former, who, in the course of the examination, had 
been repeatedly troubled with a sorry rheum, had re- 
course to his snuff-box and his handkerchief. 

“ Mr. Waverley,” said the Major, “ my present situ- 
ation prohibits me alike from giving or receiving offence, 
and I will not protract a discussion which approaches to 
either. I am afraid I must sign a warrant for detaining 
you in custody, but this house shall for the present be 
your prison. I fear I cannot persuade you to accept a 
share of our supper f — (Edward shook his head) — but 
I will order refreshments in your apartment.” 

Our hero bowed and withdrew, under guard of the 
officers of justice, to a small but handsome room, where, 
declining all offers of food or wine, he flung himself on 
the bed, and, stupified by the harassing events and men- 
tal fatigue of this miserable day, he sunk into a deep and 
heavy slumber. This was more than he himself could 
have expected ; but it is mentioned of the North Amer- 
ican Indians, when at the stake of torture, that on the 
least intermission of agony, they will sleep until the fire 
is applied to awaken them. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

Conference, and the Consequence. 

Major Mil^iLLE had detained Mr. Morton during 
ins examination of Waverley, both because he thought 
he might derive assistance from his practical good sense 
and approved loyalty, and also because it was agreeable 
to have a witness of unimpeached candour and veracity 
to proceedings which touched the honour and safety of 


WAVERLET. 


23v) 


a young Englishman of high rank and family, and the 
expectant heir of a large fortune. Every step he knew 
would be rigorously canvassed, and it was his businesii 
to place the justice and integrity of his own conduct be- 
yond the limits of question: 

When Waverley retired, the Laird and Clergyman of 
Cairnvreckan sat down in silence to their evening meal. 
While the servants were in attendance, neither chose to 
say any thing on the circumstances which occupied their 
minds, and neither felt it easy to speak upon any other. 
The youth and apparent frankness of Waverley, stood in 
strong contrast to the shades of suspicion which darken- 
ed around him, and he had a sort of naivete and open- 
ness of demeanour, that seemed to belong to one un- 
hackneyed in the ways of intrigue, and which pleaded 
highly in his favour. 

Each mused over the particulars of the examination, 
and each viewed it through the medium of his own 
feelings. Both were men of ready and -acute talent, and 
both were equally competent to combine various parts 
of evidence, and to deduce from them the necessary 
conclusions. But the wide difference of their habits and 
education often occasioned a great discrepancy in their 
respective deductions from admitted premises. 

Major Melville had been versed in camps and cities ; 
he was vigilant by profession, and cautious from experi- 
ence, had met with much evil in the world, and therefore, 
though himself an upright magistrate and an honourable 
man, his opinions of others were always strict, and some- 
times unjustly severe. Mr. Morton, on the contrary, 
had passed from the literary pursuits of a college, where 
he was beloved by his companions and respected by his 
teachers, to the ease and simplicity of his Resent charge 
where his opportunities of witnessing evirwere few, and 
never dwelt upon, but in order to e'ncourage repentance 
and amendment ; and where the love and respect of his 
parishoners repaid his affectionate zeal in their behalf, 
by end‘=‘avouring to disguise from him what they knew 


240 


WA VERLEY. 


would give him the most acute pain, namely, tlicir own 
occasional transgressions of the duties which it was 
the business of his life to recommend. Thus it u'as a 
common saying in the neighbourhood, (though both were 
popular characters) that the laird knew only the ill in 
the parish, and the minister only the good. 

A love of letters, though kept ir subordination to his 
clerical studies and duties, also distinguished the Pastor 
of Cairnvreckan, and had tinged his mind in earlier days 
with a slight feeling of romance, which no after incidents 
of real life had entirely dissi})ated. The early loss of 
an amiable young woman, whom he had married lor 
love, and who was quickly followed to the grave by an 
only child, had also served, even after the lapse of many 
years, to soften a disposition naturally mild and contem- 
plative. His feelings on the present occasion were there- 
fore likely to differ from those of the severe disciplina- 
rian, strict magistrate, and distrustful man of the world. 

When the servants had withdrawm, the silence of both 
parties continued, until Major Melville, filling his glass, 
and pushing the bottle to Mr. Morton, commenced. 

“ A distressing affair this, Mr. Morton. 1 fear this 
youngster has brought himself within the compass of a 
halter.” 

“ God forbid !” answered the clergyman. 

“ Marry, and amen,” said the temporal magistrate ; 
“ but I think even your merciful logic will hardly deny 
the conclusion.” 

“ Surely, Major,” answered the clergyman, “ I should 
hope it might be averted, for aught we have heard to- 
night ?” 

“ Indeed !” replied Melville. ‘‘ But, my good parson, 

; Id communicate to every 



‘‘ Unquestionably I would : Mercy and long-suffering 
are the grounds of the doctrine 1 am called to teach.” 

“ True, religiously speaking ; but mercy to a criminal 
may be gross injustice to the community. I don’t speak 
of this young fellow in particular, who I heartily wish 


WAVEULF.Y. 


24 i 


may be able to clear liiaisell, lor I hke boili his modesty 
and his spirit. But I fear he has ruslieii upon his fate.” 

And why Hundreds of misguided gentlemen are 
now in arms against the government, many, doubtless, 
upon principles which education and early prejudice have 
gilded with the names of patriotism and heroism ; — Jus- 
tice, when she selects her victims from such a multitude, 
(for surely all will not be destroyed) must regard the 
moral motive. He whom ambition, or hope of personal 
advantage, has led to disturb the peace of a well-order- 
ed government, let him fall a victim to the laws ; but 
surely youth, misled by the wild visions of chivalry and 
imaginary loyalty, may plead for pardon.” 

“ If visionary chivalry and imaginary loyalty come wjth- 
in the predicament of high-treason,” replied the magis- 
trate, “ 1 know no court in Christendom, my dear Mr. 
Morton, where they can sue out their Habeas Corpus.” 

“ But 1 cannot see that this youth’s guilt is at all estab- 
lished to my satisfaction,” said the clergyman. 

“ Because your good nature blinds your good sense,” 
replied Major ^lelville. “ Observe now : This young man, 
descended of a family of hereditary Jacobites, his uncle the 

leader of the tory interest in the county of , his father 

a disobliged and discontented courtier, his tutor a nonjuror, 
and the author of two treasonable volumes — This youth, I 
sa}', enters into Gardiner’s dragoons, bringing with him a 
body of young fellows from his uncle’s estate, who have not 
stickled at avowing, in their way, the high-church prin- 
ciples they learned at Waverley-Honour, in their disputes 
with their comrades. To these young men Waverley is 
unusually attentive ; they are supplied with money be- 
yond a soldier’s wants, and inconsistent with his disci- 
pline ; and are under the management of a favourite 
Serjeant, through whom they hold am unusually close 
communication with their captain, and anect to consider 
themselves as independent of the other officers, and su- 
perior to their comrades.” 


VOL. I. 


242 


WATERLET. 


“ All this, my dear Major, is the natural consequence 
of their attachment to their young landlord, and of their 
finding themselves in a regiment levied chiefly in the 
north of Ireland and the west of Scotland, and of course 
among comrades dispo'^ed to quarrel witii them, both as 
Englishmen, and as members of the church of England.’ 

“ Well said, parson !*' replied the magistrate. — “ 1 
would some of your synod heard you — But let me go on. 
This young man obtains leave of absence, goes to Tully- 
Veolan — the principles of the Baron of Bradwardinc are 
pretty well known, not to mention that this lad’s uncle 
brought him off in the'year fifteen ; he engages there in a 
brawl, in which he is said to have disgraced the commission 
he bore ; Colonel Gardiner writes to him, first mildly, then 
more sharply — I think you will not doubt his having done 
so, since he says so ; the mess invite him to explain the 
quarrel, in which he is said to have been involved ; he 
neither replies to his commander nor his comrades. In 
the meanwliile his soldiers become mutinous and disor- 
derly, and at length, when the rumour of this unhappy 
rebellion becomes general, his favourite Serjeairt Hough- 
ton, and another fellow, are detected in correspondence 
with a French emissary, accredited, as he says, by Cap- 
tain Waverley, who urges him, according to the men’s 
confession, to desert with the troop and join their Captain, 
who was with Prince Charles. In the meanwhile, this 
trusty captain is, by his own admission, residing at Glen- 
naquoich with the most active, subtle, and desperate 
Jacobite in Scotland ; he goes with him at least as far 
as their famous hunting rendezvous, and I fear a little 
farther. Meanwhile two other summonses are sent him ; 
one warning him of the disturbances in his troop, another 
peremptorily ordering him to repair to the regiment, 
which indeed common sense might have dictated, when 
he observed rebellion thickening all around him. He 
returns an absolute refusal, and throws up his commis- 
sion.” 

“ He had been already deprived of it,” said Morton. 


'v \ Vl'.ii'i.l. \ . 


243 


‘‘ But he regrets,” replied Melville, “ that the meas- 
ure had anticipated his resignation. His baggage is seized 
at his quarters, and at Tully-Veolan, and is found to con- 
tain a stock of pestilent jacobitical pamphlets, enough to 
poison a whole country, besides the unprinted lucufcra- 
tions of liis w'orthy friend and tutor Mr. Pembroke.” 

“ He says he never read them,” said the minister. 

“ In an ordinary case J should believe him,” replied 
the magistrate, “ for they are as stupid and pedantic 
in composition as mischievous in their tenets. But 
can you suppose anything but value for the principles 
they maintain, would induce a young man of his age 
to lug such trash about with him } Then, wdien news 
arrive of the approach of the rebels, he sets out in a 
sort of disguise, refusing to tell his name ; and, il 
von old fanatic tell truth, attended by a very suspicious 
character, and mounted on a horse known to have be- 
longed to Glennaquoich, and bearing on his person let- 
ters from his family, expressing high rancour against the 
house of Brunswick, and a copy of verses in praise of 
one Wogan, who abjured the service of the Parliament 
to join the Highland insurgents, when in arms to restore 
the house of Stuart, with a body of English cavalry — 
the very counterpart of his own plot — and summed up 
with a Go thou and do likewise, from that loyal subject, 
and most safe and peaceable character, Fergus Mac-Ivor 
of Glennaquoich, Vlch Ian Vohr, and so forth. And 
lastly,” continued Major Melville, warming in the detail 
of his arguments, “ where do we find this second edition 
of Cavalier Wogan ? Why, truly, in the very track most 
proper for execution of his design, and pistolling the 
first of the king’s subjects who ventures to question his 
intentions.” 

Mr. Morton prudently abstained fronvargument, w^hich 
he perceived would only harden the magistrate in his 
opinion, and merely asked how he intended to dispose 
of the prisoner f 

“ It is a question of some difficulty, considering the 
state o^ the country,” said Major Melville. 


244 


WAVE RLE T. 


“ Could you not detain him (being such a gentleman 
like young man) here in your own house, out of harm's 
way, till this storm blow over ?” 

“ My good friend,” said Major Melville, “ neither 
yoitr house nor mine will be long out of harm's way, 
even were it legal to conhne him liere. 1 have just 
learned that the commander-in-chief, who marched into 
the Highlands to seek out and disperse the insurgents, 
has declined giving them battle at Corryerick, and march- 
ed on northward with all the disposable force of govern- 
ment, to Inverness, John-o’-Groat’s House, or the Devil, 
for what 1 know, leaving the road to the Low Country 
open and undefended to the Highland army.” 

“ Good God !” said the clergyman. “ Is the man a 
coward, a traitor, or an idiot 

“ None of the three, 1 believe,” answered Melville. 
“ Sir John has the commonplace courage of a common 
soldier, is honest enough, does what he is commanded, 
and understands w'hat is told him, but is as fit to act for 
himself in circumstances of importance, as I, my dear 
parson, to occupy your pulpit.” 

This important public intelligence naturally diverted 
the discourse from Waverley for some time ; at length, 
however, the subject was resumed. 

“ 1 believe,” said Major Melville, “ that I must give 
this young man in charge to some of the detached parties 
of armed volunteers, who were lately sent out to over- 
awe the disaffected districts. They are now recalled 
towards Stirling, and a small body comes this way to- 
morrow or next day, commanded by the w'estland man 
— what’s his name f — You saw him, and said he was 
the very model of one of Cromwell’s military saints.” 

“ Gilfillan, the Cameronian,” answered Mr. IVlortou. 
“ I wish the young gentleman may be safe with him. 
Strange things are done in the heat and hurry of minds in 
so agitating a crisis, and I fear Gilfillan is of a sect which 
has sudered persecution without learning mercy.” 

“-He has only to lodge Mr. Waverley in Siirling-Castle,” 
sai 1 the Major : “ I will give strict injunctions to treat him 


wavkulry. 


245 


well. I really cannot devise any better mode for securing 
liim, and I fancy you would hardly advise me to encoun- 
ter the responsibility of setting him at liberty.” 

“ But you will have no objection to my seeing bun 
to-morrow in private ?” said the minister. 

“ None, certainly ; your loyalty and character are my 
warrant. But with what view do you make the request?” 

“ Simply,” replied Mr. Morton, “ to make tlie ex- 
periment whether he may not be brought to communicate 
to me some circumstances which may hereafter be useful 
to alleviate, if not to exculpate his conduct.” 

The friends now parted and retired to rest, each filled 
with the most anxious reflections on the state of the 
country. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A Confidant. 

Waverley awoke in the morning, from troubled 
dreams and unrefreshing slumbers, to a full consciousness 
of the horrors of his situation. How it might terminate 
he knew not. He might be delivered up to military law, 
which, in the midst of civil war, was not likely to be 
scrupulous in the choice of its victims, or the quality of 
the evidence. Nor did he feel much more comfortable 
at the thoughts of a trial before a Scottish court of jus- 
tice, where he knew the laws and forms differed in many 
respects from those of England, and had been taught to 
believe, however erroneously, that the liberty and rights 
of the subject were less carefully protected. A senti- 
ment of bitterness rose in his mind against the govern- 
ment, which he considered as the cause of his embar- 
rassment and peril, and he cursed internally his scrupulous 

VOL. 1. 


246 


WAVERLEY. 


rejection of Mac-lvor’s invitation to accompany him to 
tlie field. 

“ Why did not I,” he said to himself, “ like other men 
of lionour, take the earliest opportunity to welcome to 
Britain the descendant of her ancient kings, and lineal 
heir of her throne f Why did not I 

Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, 

And welcome home again discarded faith, 

Seek out Prince Charles, and fall before his feet 7 

All that has been recorded of excellence and worth in 
the house of Waverley, has been founded upon their 
loyal faith to the house of Stuart. From the interpre- 
tation which this Scotch magistrate has put upon the 
letters of my uncle and father, it is plain that I ought to 
have understood them as marshalling me to the course 
of my ancestors ; and it has been my gross dulness, 
joined to the obscurity of expression which they adopted 
for the sake of security, that has confounded my judg- 
ment. Had 1 yielded to the first generous impulse of 
indignation, when I learned that my honour was practised 
upon, how different had been my present situation ! I 
had then been free and in arms, fighting, like my fore- 
fathers, for love, for loyalty, and for fame. And now I 
am here, netted and in the toils, at the disposal of a 
suspicious, stern, and cold-hearted man, perhaps to be 
turned over to the solitude of a dungeon, or the infamy 
of d public execution. O, Fergus ! how true has your 
prophecy proved ; and how speedy, how very speedy, 
has been its accomplishment !” 

While Edward was ruminating on these painful sub- 
jects of contemplation, and very naturally, though not 
quite so justly, bestowing upon the reigning dynasty that 
blame which was due to chance, or, in part at least, to 
his own unreflecting conduct, Mr. Morton availed himself 
of Major Melville’s permission to pay him an early visit. 

Waverley’s first impulse was to intimate a desire that 
he might not be disturbed with questions or conversation ; 


WAVERIiEY. 


247 


but he suppressed it upon observing the benevolent and 
reverend appearance of the clergyman who had rescued 
him from the immediate violence of the villagers. 

“ I believe, sir,” said the unfortunate young man, 

that in any other circumstances I should have had as 
much gratitude to express to you as the safety of my 
life may be worth ; but such is the present tumult of my 
mind, and such is my anticipation of what I am yet 
likely to endure, that I can hardly offer you thanks for 
your interposition.” 

Mr. Morton replied, “ that, far from making any claim 
upon his good opinion, his only wish and the sole pur- 
pose of his visit was to find out the means of deserving 
it. My excellent friend. Major Melville,” he continued, 
“ has feelings and duties as a soldier and public func- 
tionary, by which I am not fettered ; nor can I always 
coincide in opinions which he forms, perhaps with too 
little allowance for the imperfections of human nature.” 
He paused, and then proceeded : “ 1 do not intrude 
myself on ybur confidence, Mr. Waverley, for the pur- 
pose of learning any circumstances, the knowledge of 
which can be prejudicial either to yourself or to others ; 
but 1 own my earnest wish is, that you would intrust me 
with any particulars which could lead to your exculpation. 
I can solemnly assure you they will be deposited with a 
faithful, and, to the extent of his limited powers, a zeal- 
ous agent.” 

“ You are, sir, I presume, a presbyterian clergyman 
— ]\Ir. Morton bowed. — “ Were I to be guidecl by the 
prepossessions of education, I might distrust your friend- 
ly professions in my case ; but I have observed that 
similar prejudices are nourished in this country against 
your professional brethren of the episcopal persuasion, 
and I am willing to believe them equally unfounded in 
both cases.” 

“ Evil to him that thinks otherwise,” said INIr. IMor- 
ton ; “ or who holds church government and ceremonies 
as the exclusive gauge of Christian faith or moral virtue.” 


248 


WAVERXET. 


“ But,” continued Waverley, “ I cannot perceive \vb3i 
1 should trouble you with a detail of particulars, out of 
which, after revolving them as carefully as possible in 
my recollection, 1 find myself unable to explain much of 
what is charged against me. I know', indeed, that lam 
innocent, but I hardly see how I can hope to prpve my- 
self so.” 

“ It is for that very reason, IMr. Waverley,” said the 
clergyman, “ that 1 venture to solicit your confidence. 
My knowledge of individuals in this country is pretty 
general, and can upon occasion be extended. Your sit- 
uation will, 1 fear, preclude your taking those active steps 
for recovering intelligence, or tracing imposture, which J 
would willingly undertake in your behalf ; and if you are 
not benefited by my exertions, at least they cannot be 
prejudicial to you.” 

Waverley, after a few minutes reflection, was con- 
vinced that his reposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so 
far as he himself was concerned, could hurt neither Mr. 
Bradw^ardine nor Fergus Mac-Tvor, both of whom had 
openly assumed arms against the government, and that 
it might possibly, if the professions of his new friend 
corresponded in sincerity with the earnestness of his 
expression, be of some service to himself. He there- 
fore ran briefly over most of the events with which the 
reader is already acquainted, suppressing his attachment 
to Flora, and indeed neither mentioning her nor Rose 
Bradwardinc in the course of his narrative. 

Mr. Morton seemed particularly struck with the ac- 
count of Waverley’s visit to Donald Bean Lean. I 
am glad,” he said, “ you did not mention this circum- 
stance to the Major. It is capable of great misconstruc- 
tion on the part of those who do not consider the power 
of curiosity and the influence of romance as motives of 
youthful conduct. When 1 was a young man like you, 
Mr Waverley, any such hair-brained expedition (I beg 
your pardon for the expression) would have had inex- 
pressible rdiarms for me. But there are men in the 
w’orld who will not believe that danger and fatigue are 


WATERLET. 


249 


often incurred without any very adequate cause, and 
therefore who are sometimes led to assign motives of ac- 
tion entirely foreign to the truth. This man Bean Lean 
IS renowned through the country as a sort of Robin Hood, 
and the stories which are told of his address and enter- 
prize are the common tales of the winter fireside. He 
certainly possesses talents beyond the rude sphere in 
which he moves ; and, being neither destitute of ambi- 
tion nor encumbered with scruples, he will probably at- 
tempt, by every means, to distinguish himself during the 
period of these unhappy commotions.” Mr. Morton 
then made a careful memorandum of the various par- 
ticulars of Waverley’s interview with Donald Bean, and 
the other circumstances which he had communicated. 

The interest which iliis good man seemed to take in 
his misfortunes, above all, the full confidence he appeared 
to repose in his innocence, had the natural effect of soft- 
ening Edw’ard’s heart, wdiom the coldness of Major Mel- 
ville had taught to believe that the world was leagued 
to oppress him. He shook jMr. Morton warmly by the 
hand, and, assuring him that his kindness and sympathy 
had relieved his mind of a heavy load, told him, iliat 
whatever might be his own fate, he belonged to a family 
who had both gratitude and the power of displaying it. 
The earnestness of his thanks called drops to the eyes 
of the worthy clergyman, who was doubly interested in 
the cause for wdiich he had volunteered his services, by 
observing the genuine and undissembled feelings of his 
young friend. 

Edward now inquired if Mr. Morton knew what was 
likely to be his destination. 

“ Stirling Castle,” replied his friend ; “ and so far I 
am well pleased for your sake, for the governor is a man 
of honour and humanity. But I am more doubtful of 
your treatment upon tiie road ; Major Melville is invol- 
untarily obliged to intrust the custody of your person to 
another.” 

“ I am glad of it,” answered Waverley. “ I detest that 
cold-blooded calculating Scotch magistrate. I hope he 


250 


WAVKIILET. 


and I shall never meet more : he had "neither sympath)’ 
with my innocence nor with my wretchedness ; and the 
petrifyins, accuracy with which he attended to every form 
of civility, while he tortured me by his questions, his suspi- 
cions, and his inferences, was as tormenting as the racks ot 
the Inquisition. Do not vindicate him, my dear sir, for 
that I cannot bear with patience ; tell me rather who is to 
have the charge of so important a state prisoner as I am ?” 

“ I believe a person called Gilfillan, one of the sect 
who are termed Cameronians.” 

“ 1 never heard of them before.” 

“ They claim,” said the clergyman, “ to represent the 
more strict and severe presbyterians, who, in Charles 
Second’s and James Second’s days, refused to profit by 
the Toleration, or Indulgence, as it was called, which 
was extended to others of that religion. They held con- 
venticles in the open fields, and being treated with great 
violence and cruelty by the Scottish government, more 
than once took arms during those reigns. They take 
their name from their leader, Richard Cameron.” 

“ I recollect,” said Waverley ; — “ but did not the tri- 
umph of presbytery at the Revolution extinguish that sect.^ 

“ By no means,” replied Mr. IMorton ; “ that great 
event fell yet far short of what they proposed, which 
was nothing less than the complete establishment of 
the presbyterian church, upon the grounds of the old 
Solemn League and Covenant. Indeed, I believe they 
scarce knew what they wanted ; but being a numer- 
ous body of men, and not unacquainted with the use of 
arms, they kept themselves together as a separate party 
in the state, and at the time of the Union had neai ly 
formed a most unnatural league with their old enemies, 
the Jacobites, to oppose that important national measure. 
Since that time their numbers Have gradually diminished ; 
but a good many are still to be louiM in the western 
counties, and several, with a better tempei than in 1707, 
have now taken arms for government. This person, 
whom they call Gifted Gilfillan, has been long a leader 
among them, and now heads a small party, which will 
pass here to-day, or to-morrow, on their march toward 


WAVE RLE Y. 


251 


Stirling, under whose escort Major Melville proposes you 
shall travel. I would willingly speak to Gilfillan in your 
behalf ; but, having deeply imbibed all the prejuclices 
of his sect, and being of the same fierce disposition, he 
would pay little regard to the remonstrances of an Eras- 
tian divine, as he would politely term me. — And now, 
farewell, my young friend; for the present, 1 must not 
weary out the Major’s indulgence, that I ma) obtain hia 
permission to visit you again in the course of the day.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Things mend a little. 

About noon, Mr. Morton returned and brought an in- 
vitation from IMajor Melville that IMr. Waverley would 
honour him with his company to dinner, notwithstanding 
the unpleasant affair which detained hini at Cairnvreckan, 
from which he should heartily rejoice to see Mr. Waver- . 
ley completely extricated. The truth was, that Mr. 
IMorton’s favourable report and opinion had somewhat 
staggered the preconceptions of the old soldier concern- 
ing Edward’s supposed accession to the mutiny in the 
regiment ; and in tlie unfortunate state of the country, the 
mere suspicion of disaffection, or an inclination to join the 
insurgent Jacobites, might infer criminality indeed, but 
certainly not dishonour. Besides, a person whom the Ma- 
jor trusted had reported to him, (though, as it proved, in- 
accurately,) a contradiction of the agitating news of the 
preceding evening. ’ According to this second edition of 
the intelligence, the Highlanders had withdrawn from the 
Lowland frontier with the purpose of following the army 
in their march to Inverness. The IMajor was at a loss, in- 
deed, to reconcile his information with the well-known 
abilities of some of the gentlemen in the Highland army, 


252 


WAVKRLEY. 


yet it was the i oiirse which was likely to be most agreealile 
to others. He rememhered the same policy had (hMained 
them, in the north in the year 1715, and he anticipated a 
similar termination to the insurrection, as upon that oc- 
casion. This news put him in such good humour, that 
he readily acquiesced in Mr. Morton’s ])roposal to pay 
some hospitable attention to his unfortunate guest, and 
voluntarily added, he hoped the whole affair would prot e 
a youthful escapade^ which might be easily atoned by a 
short confinement. The kind mediator had some trouble 
to prevail on his young friend to accept the invitation. 
He dared not urge to him the real motive, which was a 
good-natured wish to secure a favourable repoi t of Wa- 
verley’s case from Major Melville to Governor Blakeney. 

‘ He remarked, from the flashes of our hero’s spirit, that 
touching upon this topic wmuld be sure to defeat his pur- 
jiose. He therefore pleaded, that the invitation argued 
the Major’s disbelief of any part of the accusation which 
was inconsistent with Waverley’s conduct as a soldier 
and man of honour, and that to decline his courtesy 
might be interpreted into a consciousness that it w^as un- 
merited. In short, he so far satisfied Edward that the 
. manly and proper course was to meet the Major on 
easy terms, that, suppressing his strong dislike again to 
encounter his cold and punctilious civility, Waverlcy 
agreed to be guided by his new friend. 

The meeting, at first, was stiff and formal enough. But 
Edw^ard having accepted the invitation, and his mind being 
really soothed and relieved by the kindness of Morton, 
held himself bound to behave w^ith ease, though he could 
not affect cordiality. The Major was somewhat of a 
3ow vivantf and his wine w^as excellent. He told his 
old campaign stories, and displayed much knowledge of 
men and manners. Mr. Morton had an internal fund of 
placid and quiet gaiety, which seldom failed to enliven 
any small party in wdiich he found himself pleasantly 
seated. Waverley, whose life W'as a dream, gave ready 
way to the predominating impulse, and became the most 
lively of the party. He had at all times remarkable 


WAVETILET. 


2^3 

natural powers of conversation, though easily silenced 
by discouragement. On the present occasion, he pi(jued 
himself upon leaving on the minds of his companions a 
favourable impression of one who, under such disastrous 
circumstances, could sustain his misfortunes with ease 
and gaiety. His spirits, though not unyielding, were 
abundantly elastic, and soon seconded his efforts. The 
trio were engaged in very lively discourse, apparently 
delighted with each other, and the kind host was press- 
ing a third bottle of Burgundy, when the sound of a 
drum was heard at some distance. The Major, who, in 
the glee o( an old soldier, had forgot the duties of a 
magistrate, cursed, with a muttered military oath, the 
circumstances which recalled him to hisoOlcial functions. 
He rose and went towards the window, which command- 
ed a very near view of the high-road, and he was follow- 
ed by his guests. 

The drum advanced, beating no measured martial 
tune, but a kind of rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which 
the fire-drum startles the slumbering artizans of a Scotch 
burgh. It is the object of this history to do justice to 
all men ; I must therefore record, in justice to the drum- 
mer, that he protested he could beat any known »narch 
or point of war known in the British army, and had ac- 
cordingly commenced w'ith “ Dumbarton’s Drums,” 
when he was silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the command- 
er of the party, who refused to permit his follow’ers to 
move to this profane, and even, as he said, persecutiv'e 
tune, and commanded the drummer to beat the llOih 
Psalm. As this was beyond the capacity of th'fe druhber 
of sheep-skin, he u^as fain to have recourse to the inof- 
fensive row-dow-dow, as a harmless substitute for the 
sacred music which his instrument or skill were unable 
to achieve. This may be held a trifling anecdote, but 
the drummer in question was no less than town-drummer 
of Anderton. 1 remember his successor in office a mem- 
ber of that enlightened body, the Bi-itish Convention : 
Bg his memory, therefore, treated with due respect. 

VOL. I. 


254 


WAYERLEY. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A Volunteer Sixty Years Since. 

On hearing the unwelcome sound of the drum, 
Major Melville hastily opened a sashed door, and step- 
ped out upon a sort of terrace which divided his house 
from the high-road from which the martial music pro- 
ceeded. Waverley and his new friend followed him, 
though probably he would have dispensed with their 
attendance. They soon recognized in solemn march, 
first, the performer upon the drum ; secondly, a large 
flag of four compartments, on which w^ere inscribed the 
words, Covenant, Kirk, King, Kingdoms. The per- 
son who was honoured with this charge w'as followed by 
the commander of the party, a thin, dark, rigid-looking 
man, about sixty years old. The spiritual pride, which, 
in mine host of tlie Candlestick, mantled in a sort of 
supercilious hypocrisy, was, in this man’s face, elevated 
and yet darkened by genuine and undoubting fanaticism. 
It was impossible to behold him without imagination 
placing him in some strange crisis, where religious zeal 
was the ruling principle. A martyr at the stake, a sol- 
dier in the field, a lonely and banished w^anderer consol- 
ed by the intensity and supposed purity of his faith under 
every earridy privation ; perhaps a persecuting inquisitor, 
as terrific in power as unyielding in adversity ; any of 
these seemed congenial characters to this personage. 
With these high traits of energy, there was something in 
the affected precision and solemnity of his deport- 
ment and discourse, that bordered upon the ludicrous ; 
go that, according to the mood of the spectator’s mind, 
and the light under which Mr. Gilfillan presented him- 
self, one might have feared, admired, or laughed at him. 
His dress was that of a west country, peasant, of better 


WAVERLEY. 


255 


materials indeed than that of the lower rank, but in no 
lospect affecting either the mode of the age, or of ihe 
Scottish gentry at any period. His arms were a broad- 
sword and pistols, which, from the antiquity of .their 
appearance, might have .seen the rout of Pentland, or 
Bothwell Brigg. 

As he Came up a few steps to meet Major Melville 
and touched solemnly, but slightly, his huge and over- 
brimmed blue bonnet, in answer to the Major, who had 
courteously raisecJ a small triangular gold-laced hat, 
Waverley was irresistibly impressed with the idea that he 
beheld the leader of the Roundheads of yore, in con- 
ference with one of Marlborough’s captains, ^he group 
of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted com- 
mander, was of a motley description. They were in or- 
dinary Lowland dresses, of different colours, which, 
contrasted with the arms they bore, gave them an irreg- 
ular and rnobbish appearance, so much is the eye accus- 
tomed to connect uniformity of dress with the military 
character. In front were a few who apparently partook 
of their leader’s enthusiasm ; men obviously to be feared 
in a combat where their natural courage was exalted by 
religious zeal. Others puffed and strutted, filled with 
the importance of carrying arms, and all the novelty of 
their situation, while the rest, apparently fatigued with 
their march, dragged their limbs listlessly along, or strag- 
gled from their companions to procure such refreshments 
as the neighbouring cottages and ale houses afforded. 
“ Six grenadiers of Ligonier’s,” thought the Major to 
himself, as his mind reverted to his own military expe- 
rience, “ would have sent all these fellows to the right 
about.” 

Greeting, however, Mr. Gilfillan civilly, he requested 
to know if he had received the letter he had sentto him 
upon his march, and could undertake the charge of the 
state prisoner whom he there mentioned, as far as Stir- 
ling Castle. “ Yea,” was the concise reply of the 
Cameronian leader, in a voice which seemed to issua 
from the very penetralia of his pf ’son. 


256 


WAVERLET. 


“ But your escort, Mr. Gllfillan, is not so strong as 1 
expected,” said Major Melville. 

“ Some of the people,” replied Gilfillan, “ hungered 
and .were athirst by the way, and tarried until their poor 
souls were refreshed with the wrord.” 

“ I am sorry, sir,” replied the Major, ‘‘ you did not 
trust to your refreshing your men at Cairnvreckan ; wdiat- 
ever rny house contains .s at the command of persons 
employed in the service.” 

“ It was not of creature-comforts I spake,” answ^ered 
the Covenanter, regarding Major Melville with something 
like a smile of contempt ; “ howbeit, 1 thank you ; but the 
people remained waiting upon the precious Mr. Jabesh 
Rentowel, for the outpouring of the afternoon exhortation. 

“ And have you, sir,” said the Major, “ when the 
rebels are about to spread themselves through this coun- 
try, actually left a great part of your command at a field- 
preaching ?” 

Gilfillan again smiled scornfully as he made this indi- 
rect answer, — “ Even thus are the children rf this world 
wiser in their generation than the children of light !” 

“ However, sir,” said the Major, “ as you are to take 
charge of this gentleman to Stirling, and deliver him, 
with these papers, into the hands of Governor Blakeney, 
I beseech you to observe some rules of military discipline 
upon your march. For example, I would advise you to 
keep your men more closely together, and that each, in 
his march, should cover his file-leader, instead of strag- 
gling like geese upon a common ; and, for fear of sur- 
prise, 1 further recommend to you to form a small ad- 
vance-party of your best men, with a single vidette in 
front of the whole march, so that when you approach a 
village or a wood” — (Here the IMajor interrupted him- 
self) — “ But as I don’t observe you listen to me, Mr. 
Gilfillan, 1 suppose I need not give myself the trouble to 
say more upon the subject. You are a better judge, 
unquestionably, than I am of the measures to be pursu- 
ed ; but one thing 1 would have you well aware of, that 
you are to treat this gentleman, your prisoner, with no 


WAVERLEY. 


rigour or incivility, and are to subject him to no other 
restraint than is necessary for his security.” 

“ 1 have looked into my commission,” said Mr. Gil- 
fillan, “ subscribed by a worthy and professing nobleman, 
William, Earl of Glencairn ; nor do 1 find it therein set 
down that I am to receive any ciiaigjs or commands 
anent my doings from Major William Melville of Cairn- 
vreckan.” 

Major Melville reddened even to the well-powdered 
ears which appeared beneath his neat military side-curls, 
the more so as he observed Mr. Morton smile at tlie 
same moment. “ Mr. Gilfillan,” he answered, with 
some asperity, “ I beg ten thousand pardons for interfer 
ing witlra person of your importance. 1 thought, how- 
ever, that as you have been bred a grazier, if 1 mistake 
not, there might be occasion to remind you of the difFer- 
ence between Highlanders and Highland cattle ; and if 
you should happen to meet with any gentleman who has 
seen service; and is disposed to speak upon the subject 
I should still imagine that listening to him would do you 
no sort of harm. But I have done, and have only once 
more to recommend this gentleman to your civility, as 
well as to your custody. — IMr. Waverley, 1 am truly 
sorry we should part in this way ; but 1 trust, when you 
are again in this country, I may have an opportunity to 
render Cairnvreckan more agreeable than circumstances 
have permitted on this occasion.” 

So saying, he shook our hero by tbe hand. Morton 
t also took an affectionate farewell ; and Waverley having 
mounted his horse, with a musqueteer leading it by the 
bridle, and a file upon each side to prevent liis escape, 
set forward upon the march with Gilfillan and his party. 
Through the little village they were accompanied with 
the shouts of the children, who cried out, “ Eh ! see to 
the Southland gentleman, that’s gaim to be hanged for 
shooting lang John Mucklewrath the smitli I” 

VOL. I. 


\VAVfilll.EY. 


25:5 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

An Incident. 

The dinner-hour of Scotland Sixty Years Since was 
tvvo o’clock. It was therefore about four o’clock of a 
delightful autumn afternoon that Mr. Gilfillan commenc- 
ed his march, in hopes, although Stirling was eighteen 
miles distant, he might be able, by becoming a borrower 
of the night for an hour or two, to reach it that evening. 
He therefore put forth his strength, and marched stoutly 
along at the head of his followers, eyeing our hero from 
time to time, as if he longed to enter into controversy 
with him. At length, unable to resist the temptation, he 
slackened his pace till he was alongside of his prisoner’s 
horse, and after marching a few steps in silence abreast 
of him, he suddenly asked, — “ Can ye say wha the 
carle was wi’ the black coat and the mousted head, that 
was wi’ the Laird of Cairnvreckan 

“ A presbyterian clergyman,” answered VVaverley. 

“ Presbyterian !” answered Gilfillan, contemptuously 
“ a wretched Erastian, or rather an obscured prelatist, — a 
favourer of the black Indulgence ; ane of tliae dumb dogs 
that canna bark : they tell ow^er a clash o’ terror and a 
clatter o’ comfort in their sermons, without ony sense, or 
savour, or life — Ye’ve been fed in siccan a fauld, belike ?” 

“ No ; I am of the Church of England,” said VV’^averley. 

“ And they’re just neighbour-like,” replied the Cove- 
nanter ; “ and nae wonder they gree sae w^eel. Wha 
wad hae thought the goodly structure of the Kirk of 
Scotland, built up by our fathers in 1642, wad hae been 
defaced by carnal ends and the corruptions of the time ; 
—ay, wha wad hae thought the carved work of the sanc- 
tuary would hae been sae soon cut down !” 


WAVE RLE r. 


259 


To this lamentation, which one or two of the assist- 
ants chorussed with a deep groan, our hero thought it 
unnecessary to make any reply. Whereupon Mr. Gih 
fillan, resolving that he should be a hearer at least, if 
not a disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiade. 

“ And now IS it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise 
anentthe call to the service of the altar and the duly of the 
day, ministers fall into sinful compliances with patronage, 
and indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and other corrup- 
tions, — is it woudertul, T say, that you, sir, and other sic- 
like unhappy persons, should labour to build up your auld 
Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy persecuting saunt-kdl- 
ing times 1 trow, gin ye werena blinded wi’ the graces 
and favours, and services and enjoyments, and employ- 
ments and inheritances, of this wicked world, I could 
prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy rag ye 
put your trust ; and that your surplices, and your copes 
and vestments, are but cast-off garments of the muckle 
harlot, that sitteth upon seven hills, and drinketh of the 
cup of abomination. But, 1 trow, ye are deaf as adders 
upon that side of the head ; ay, ye are deceived with 
lier enchantments, and ye traffic with her merchandize, 
and ye are drunk with the cup of her fornication !” 

How much longer this milifary theologist might have 
continued his invective, in which he spared nobody but 
the scattered remnant of hill-folk^ as he called them, is 
absolutely uncertain. His matter was copious, his voice 
powerful, and his memory strong ; so that there^was little 
chance of his ending his exhortation till the party had 
reached Stirling, had not his attention been attracted by 
a pedlar who had joined the march from a cross road, and 
who sighed or groaned with great regularity at all fitting 
pauses of his homily. 

. “ And what may ye be, friend ?” said the Gifted Gil- 
fillan. 

“ A puir pedlar, that’s bound for Stirling, and craves 
the protection of your honour’s party in these kittle 
times. Ah ! your honour has a notable faculty in search- 
ing and explaining the secret. — ay, the secret and ob- 
14 


260 


WAVEIILKY. 


scure, and incomprehensible causes ol the backslidings of 
the land ; ay, your honour touches the root o’ the matter.’' 

“ Friend,” said Gilfillan, with a more complacent 
voice than he had hitherto used, ‘‘ honour not me. 1 do 
not go out to park-dikes, and to steadings, and to market- 
towns, to have herds, and cottars, and burghers pull off 
their bonnets to me as they do to Major M:jlville o’ 
Cairnvreckan, and ca’ me laird, or captain, or honour ; — 
no, my sma’ means, wdiilk are not aboon tw^enty thousand 
merk, have had the blessing of increase, but the pride 
of my heart has not increased with them ; nor do I de- 
light to be called captain, though I have the subscribed 
commission of that gospel-searching nobleman, the Earl 
of Glencairn, in whilk 1 am so designated. While I live*, 
I am and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan, wdio wdll 
stand up for the standards of doctrine agreed on by the 
ance-famous Kirk of Scotland, before she trafficked with 
the accursed Achan, while he has a plack in his purse, 
or a drap o’ bluid in his body.” 

“ Ah,” said the pedlar, “ I have seen your land about 
Mauchlin — a fertile spot ! your lines have fallen in 
pleasant places ! — And siccan a breed o’ cattle is not in 
ony laird’s land in Scotland.” 

“ Ye say right, — ye say right, friend,” retorted Gilfillan 
eagerly, for he was not inaccessible to flattery upon this 
subject, — “ Ye say right ; they are the real Lancashire, 
and there’s *no the like o’ them even at the Mains of 
Kilmaurs ;” and he then entered into a discussion of 
their excellences, to which our readers will probably be 
as indifferent as our hero. After this excursion, the 
leader returned to his theological discussions, while the 
pedlar^ less profound upon those mystic points, content- 
ed himself with groaning, and expressing his edification 
at suitable intervals. “ What a blessing it would be to 
the puir blinded popish nations among whom 1 hae so- 
journed, to have siccan a light to their paths ! I hae 
been as fai as Muscovia in my sma’ trading way, as a 
travelling merchant ; and I hae been through France 
and the Low Countries, and a’ Poland, and maist feck i 


WAVERLEY. 


2G1 


Germany, and O ! it would grieve your honour’s soul to 
see the murmuring, and the singing, and massing, that’s 
m the kirk, and the piping that’s in the quire, and the 
heathenish dancing and dicing upon the Sabbath 1” 

This set Gilfillan off upon tiie Book of Sports and 
the Covenant, and the Engagers, and the Protesters, and 
the Whiggamores’ Raid, and the Assembly of Divines at 
Westminster, and the Longer and Shorter Catechism, 
and the Excommunication at Torwood, and the slaugh- 
ter of Archbishop Sharp. This last topic again led him 
into the lawfulness of defensive arms, on which subject 
he uttered much more sense than could have been ex- 
pected from some other parts of his harangue, and 
attracted even Waverley’s attention, who had hitherto 
been lost in his own sad reflections. Mr. Gilfillan then 
considered the lawfulness of a private man standing forth 
a§ the avenger of public oppression, and as he was la- 
bouring with great earnestness the cause of Mas James 
Mitchell, who fired at the Archbishop of St. Andrews some 
years before the prelate’s assassination on Magus Muir, an 
incident occurred which interrupted his harangue. 

The rays of the sun were lingering on the very verge 
of the horizon as the party ascended a hollow and some- 
what steep path, which led to the summit of a rising 
ground. The country was unenclosed, being part of a 
very extensive heath or common ; but it was tar from 
level, exhibiting in many places hollows filled with furze 
and broom ; in others, little dingles of stunted brush- 
wood. A thicket of the latter description crowned the 
hill up which the party ascended. The foremost of the 
band, being the stoutest and most active, had pushed on, 
and, having surmounted the ascent, were out of ken for 
the present. Gilfillan, with the pedlar, and the small party 
who were Waverley’s more immediate guard, were near 
the top of the ascent, and the remainder straggled after 
them at a considerable interval. 

Such was the situation of matters, when the pedlar, 
missing, as he said, a little doggie which belonged to him, 
began to halt and whistle for the animal. This signal 
repeated more than once, gave offence to the rigour ot 


262 


AVA»^ERLEY. 


bis ccnnpanion, the rather because it appeared to indi- 
cate inattention to tlie treasures of theological and con- 
troversial knowledge which v/as pouring out for his edifi- 
cation. He therefore signified gruffly, that he could not 
w'aste his time in waiting for a useless cur. 

“ But if your honour wad consider the case of 
Tobit” 

“ Tobit !” exclaimed Gilfillan, with great heat ; 
“ Tobit and his dog baith are altogether heathenish and 
apocryphal, and none but a prelatist or a papist would 
draw them into question. I doubt I hae been mista’en 
in you, friend.” 

“ Very likely,” answered the pedlar, with great com- 
posure ; “ but ne’ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle 
again upon puir Bawty.” 

This last signal was answered in an unexpected man- 
ner ; for six or eight stout Highlanders, who lurked 
among the copse and brushwood, sprung into the hollow 
way, and began to lay about them with their claymores. 
Gilfillan, unappalled at this undesirable apparition, cried 
out manfully, “ The sword of the Lord and of Gideon !” 
and, drawing his broad-sword, would probably have done 
as much credit to the good old cause as any of its dough- 
ty champions at Drumclog, when, behold ! the pedlar, 
snatching a musket from the person who was next him 
bestowed the but of it with such emphasis on the head 
of his late instructor in the Cameronian creed, that he 
was forthwith levelled to the ground. In the confusion 
which ensued, the horse which bore our hero was shol 
by one of Gilfillan’s party, as he discharged his firelock 
at random. Waverley fell with, and indeed under, the 
animal, and sustained some severe contusions. But he 
was almost instantly extricated from the fallen steed by 
two Highlanders, who, each seizing him by th? arm, 
hurried him away from the scuffle and from the high- 
road. They ran with great speed, half supporting and 
half dragging our hero, who could however distinguish a 
few dropping shots fired about the spot which he had 
lell. This, as he afterwards learned, proceeded from 


WAVERLEY. 


2G3 


Gilfillan’s party, who had now assembled, the stragglers 
in front and rear having joined the others. At their ap- 
proach the Higlilanders drew off, hut not before they 
had rifled Gilfillan and two of his people, who remained 
on the spot grievously wounded. A few shots were ex- 
changed betwixt them and the Westlanders ; but the 
latter, now without a commander, and apprehensive of a 
second ambush, did not make any serious effort to re- 
cover their prisoner, judging it more wise to proceed on 
their journey to Stirling, carrying with them their 
wounded captain and comrades. 


NOTES TO WA YEEEEY. 


1. Pag’e 8. Alas ! that attire, respectable and gentlemanlike in ]K0o,ci 
thereabouts, is now as ajitiquated as ihe Author ol' Waverley has liimsel 
become since that period ! 'J'he reader of fashion will please to till up iht 
costume with an embroi<lered waistcoat of purple velvet or silk, and a coat 
of whatever colour he pleases. [182*).] 

2. Page 11. Where the Chevalier Saint George, or, as he was termed 
the Old Pretender, held his exiled court, as his situation compelled him to 
shift his place of residence. 

3. Page 12. Long the oracle of the country gentlemen of the high Tory 
party. 'I'he ancient News-Letter was written in manuscript and copied by 
clerks, who addressed the copies to the subscribers. 3'he politician l)y wliom 
they were compiled, picked up his intelligence at Coffee-houses, and often 
pleaded for an additional gratuity, in consideration of the extra expense at- 
tached to frequenting such places of fashionable resort. 

4. Page 25. I’liere is a family legend to this purpose, belonging to the 
knightly family of Bradshaigh, the proprietors of llaigh-hall, in Lancashire, 
where, 1 have been told, the event is recorded on a painted glass window. 
The (Jerman ballad of the Noble Moringer turns upon a similar topic. But 
undoubtedly maiiy .such incidents may have taken place, where, the distance 
being great and tlie intercourse infrequent, false reports concerning the fate 
afthe absent Crusaders must have been commonly circulated, and sometimes 
perhaps rather hastily credited at home. 

5. Page 38. These Introductory Chapters have been a good deal cen- 
sured as tedious and unnecessary. Yet there are circumstances recorded 
in them which the author has not been able to persuatle himself to retractor 
cancel. 

6. Page 41. The attacliment to this classic was, it is said, actually dis- 
pla^’cd, in the manner mentioned in the text, by an unfortunate Jacobite in that 
unhappy period. He escaped from the jail in which he was confined for a 
hasty trial and certain condemnation, and was retaken as he hovered around 
the place in which he had been imprisoned, for which he could give no better 
reason than the hope of recovering his favourite IHfns Livius, I am sorry to 
add, that the simplicity of such a character was found to form no apology for 
his guilt as a rebel, and that he was condemned and executed. 

7. Page 45. Nicholas Amhurst, a noted political writer, who conducted 
for many years a paper called the Craftsman, under the assumed name ol 
Caleb D’Anvers. He was devoted to the Tory interest, aiid secondedj 
with mucii ability, the attacks of Pulteny on Sir Robert Walpole. He died 
in 1742, neglected by his great patrons, and in the most miserable cirgiim 
stances. 

“ Amhurst survived the downfall of Walpole’s power, and had reason tc 
expect a reward for his labours. If we excuse liollngbroke, who had only 
saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, shall be at a loss to justify Pulteny 
who could with ease have given this man a considerable income. The ut 


notp:s to wavkrley. 


265 


most of his gonerosily to Amhurst, ihal 1 ever heard of, was a hog-shead ol 
claret ! lie died, it is supposed, of a l>rokeii licarl ; and was buried at tha 
ciiarge of his honest printer, Richard Francklin .’' — {Lord Chesterjkld' s Char- 
acters Reviewed, p. 4-2. ) 

S. Pag^e 47. I have now given in the text, the full name of this gallant 
and excellent man, and proceed to copy the account of his remarkal/e con- 
version, as related by Dr. I^oddridge. 

This memorable event,” sa^^s the pious writer, “ haj)pened towards the 
middle of .luly 17 19. The major had spent the evening (and, if I mistake not, 
it was the Sabba.th) in some gay company, and had an unhappy assignation 
with a married woman, whom he was to attend exactly at twelve. 'I’he com- 
pany broke up about eleven 5 and notjudgingit convenient to anticipate the 
time appointed, he went into his chamber to kill the tedious hour, perhaps with 
some amusing book, or some other way. But it very accidentally iiappened, 
that he took up a religious book, which his good mother or aunt had, without 
his knowledge, slipped into his portmanteau. It was called, if 1 remember 
the title exactly, ‘ The Christian Soldier, or Heaven taken by Storm,’ and it 
was written by Mr. Thomas M’atson. Guessing by the title of it that he 
would fiiul some phrases of his own profession spiritualized in a manner which 
he thought might afford him some diversion, he resolved to dip into it ; but he 
took no serious notice of anything it had in it j and yet while this book was in 
his hand, an impression was maae upon his mind (perhaps God only knows 
how) which drew after it a train of the most important and happy consefiuences. 
He thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall upon the book which he was 
reading, which he at first imagined might happen by some accident in the 
candle j but lifling up his eyes, he apprehended, to his extreme amazement, 
that there was before liim, as it were suspended in the air, a visible represen- 
tation of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the cross, surrounded on all sides with 
a glory ; and was impressed, as if a voice, or something equivalent to a voice, 
nad come to him, to this eficct, (for he was not confident as to the words.) 
'Oh, sinner ! did I suffer this for thee, and are these thy returns !’ Struck 
with so amazing a phenomenon as this, there remained hardly any life in him, 
so that he sunk do\tn in the arm-chair in which he sat, and continued, he knew 
not how long, insensible.” 

With regard to this vision,” says the ingenious Dr. Hibbert, the ap- 
pearance of our Saviour on the cross, and the awful words repeated, can be 
considered in no other light than a.sso many recollected images of the mind, 
which, probably, had their origin*in the language of some urgent appeal to 
repentance, that the colonel might have casuall}' read, or heard delivered. 
From what cause, however, such ideas were rendere<i as vivid as actual im- 
pressions, we have no information to be depended upon. This vision was 
certainly attended with one of the most important of consequences, connect 
ed with the Chistian dispensation — the conversion of a sinner. And hence 
no single narrative has, perhaps, done more to confirm the superstitious 
opinion that apparitions of this awful kind cannot arise without a divine fiat.” 
Dr. Hibbert acids, in a note — “A short time before the vision. Colonel Gar- 
diner had receiv^ed a severe fall from his horse. Did the brain receive some 
slight degree of injury from the accident, so as to predispose him to this 
spiritual illusion — {Hibbert’s Philosophy of Apparitions, Edinburgh, 1824, 
t. 190.) 

9 Pag - 49 The courtesy of an invitation to partake a traveller’s meal, 

or at least that of being invited to share whatever liquor the guest called for, 
was expected by certain old landlords in Scotland even in the ^muth of the 
author. In requital, mine host was always furnished with the news of the 
country, and was probably a little of a humourist to boot. The devolution of 
the whole actual business a.nd drudgery of the inn upon the poor gudewife, 
was very common among the Scottish Bonifaces. There was in ancient times, 
m the city of Edinburgh a gentleina ^good family, who condescended, in 
vot. I 


266 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


order to gain a livelihood, to become the nominal keeper of a coflec-house, one 
of the first places of the kind which had been opened in the ^cotlish metrop- 
olis. As usual, it was entirely managed by the careful and industrious Mrs. 

B ; while her husband amused himself with field sports, without troubling 

his head about the matter. Once upon a time the premises having taken lire 
the husband was met, walking up the High Street loaded with Ins guns and 
fishing-roils, and replied calmly to some one who inquired alter his w'ile,“ that 
the poor woman was trying to save a parcel of crockery, and some trumpery- 
books 5 ” the last being those which served her to conduct the business ol 
the house. 

There were many elderly gentlemen in the author’s younger days, who still 
held it part of the amusement of a journey to parley with mine host,” who 
often resembled, in his quaint humour, mine Host of the Garter in the Merry 
Wives of Windsor ; or Blague of the George in the Merry Devil of Edmonton. 
Sometimes the landlady took her share of entertaining the company. In 
eiiher case the omitting to pay them due attention gave displeasure, and per- 
haps brought down a smart jest, as on the following occasion : — 

A jolly dame who, not Sixty Years since,” kept the principal caravan- 
sary at Greenlaw, in Berwickshire, had the honour to receive under her roof 
a very worthy clergyman, with three sons of the same profession, each hav 
ing a cure of souls ; be it said in passing, none of the reverend party were 
reckoned powerful in the pulpit. After dinner was over, the worthy senior, 
in the pride ofhis heart, asked Mrs. Buchan whether she ever had had such a 
party in her house before. “ Here sit I,” he said, “ a placed minister of 
the Kirk of Scotland, and here sit my three sons, each a placed minister ol 
the same kirk. — Confess, Luckie Buchan, you never had such a party inyoui 
house before.” 'Hie question was not premised by any invitation to sit 
down and take a glass of wine or the like, so Mrs. B. answered dryly, “ In 
deed, sir, 1 cannot just say that ever 1 had such a party in my house before, 
except once in the forty-five, when 1 had a Highland jiiper here, with his 
three sons, all Highland pipers j and de’il a spring they could play amang them.” 

10. Page 55. There is no particular mansion described under the name 
of Tully-\^olan j but the peculiarities of the description occur in various old 
Scottish Seats. The House of Warrender upon Burntsfield Links, and that 
of Old Ravelston, belonging, the former to Sir George Warrender, the latter 
to Sir Alexander Keith, have both contributed several hints to the description 
in the text. The House of Dean, near Edinburgh, has also some points of 
resemblance with Tully-Veolan. The author has, however, been informed, 
that tlie House of Grandtully resembles that of the Baron of Bradwardine 
still more than any of the above. 

11. Page 66 . At Ravelston may be seen such a garden, which the taste 
pf the proprietor, the author’s friend and kinsman, Sir Alexander Keith, 
K night Mareschal, has judiciously preserved. 'I’hat, as well as the house, is, 
however, of smaller dimensions tlfan the Baron of Bradwardine’s mansion 
and garden are pre.sumed to have been. 

12. Page 53. This is a genuine ancient fragment, with some alteration in 
the last two lines. 

13. Page 61. I am ignorant how long the ancient and established custom 
of keeoing fools has been disused in England. Swift writes an epitaph on 
ihe Earl of Suffolk’s fool, — 

“ Whose name was Dickie Pearce.” 

In Scotland the custom subsisted till late in the last century 5 at Glammis 
Castle, is preserved the dress of one of the jesters, very handsome, and orna- 
mented with many bells. It is not above thirty years since such a charactei 
stood ?y the sideboard of a nobleman of the first rank in Scotland, npd occa 
sionauy mixed in the conversation, till he carried the joke rather 100 far, io 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


267 


uictking proposals to one of the young: ladies of the family, and publisliing-the 
bans between her and himself in the public church. 

14. Pag'c 67. After the Revolution of 1688, and on some occasions when 
the spirit of the Presbyterians had been unusually animated against their op 
pouents, the Episcopal cler'^ymen, who were chiefly non-jurors, were exposed 
to be mobbed, as we should now say, or rabbled, as the phrase then went, to 
expiate their political heresies. Kut notwithstanding' that the Presbyterians 
had the persecution inCvharles II. and his brother’s time, to exasperate them, 
there was little mischief done be 3 ’ond the kind of petty violence mentioned 
in the text. 

15. Page 70. Southey’s Madoc. 

16. Page 71. I may here mention, that the fashion of compotation de- 
scribed in the text, was still occasional!}' practised in Scotland, in the author’s 
youth. A company, after having taken leave of their host, often went to 
finish the evening at the clachan or village, in ‘‘ womb of tavern.” 'Pheir 
entertainer always accompanied them to take the stirrup-cup, which often 
occasioned a long and late revel. 

The Poaditm Potatorinni of the valiant Baron, his blessed Bear, has apro- 
totype at the fine old CasXle of Glammis, so ricli in memorials of ancient times ; 
it is a massive beaker of silver, double gilt, moulded into the shape of a lion, 
and holding about an English pint of wine. The form alludes to the family 
name of Strathmore, which is Lyon, and, when exhibited, the cup must neces- 
sarily be emptied to the Earl’s health. The author ought perhaps to be 
ashamed of recording that he has had the honour of swallowing the contents 
of the Lion ; and the recollection of the feat served to suggest the story of the 
Bear of Bradw ardine. In the family of Scott of 'J’hirlestane (not 'I’hirlcstane 
;n the Forest, but the place of the same name in Roxburghshire) was long 
prese*'ved a cup of the same kind, in the form of a jack-boot. Each guest 
was ooliged to empty this at his departure. If the guest’s name was Scott, 
the necessity was doubly imperative. 

When the landlord of an inn presented his guests with deoch andoruis, that 
IS, the drink at the door, or the stirrup-cup, the draught was not charged in 
the reckoning. On this point a learned Bailie of the town of Forfar pro- 
nounced a very sound judgment. 

A., an ale-wife in Forfar, had brewed her “ peck of malt,” and set the 
liquor out of doors to cool ; the cow of B., a neighbour of A., chanced to 
come by, and seeing the good beverage, was allured to taste it, and finally tc 
drink it up. When A. came to take in her liquor, she found her tub empty 
and from the cow’s staggering and staring, so as to betray her intcmperancej 
she easily divined the mode in which her browst” had disappeared. Tc 
take v'engeance on Crummie’s ribs with a stick, was her first effort. The 
roaring of the cow brought B.,her master, who remonstrated with his angry 
neighbour, and received in reply a demand for the value of the ale whicli 
Crummie had drunk up. B. refused payment, and 'was conveyed before C., 
tne Bailie, or sitting Magistrate. He heard the case patiently 5 and then de- 
manded of the plaintifl' A., whether the cow had sat down to her potation, or 
taken it standing. The plaintiff answered, she had not seen the deed com- 
mitted, but she supposed the eow drank the ale while standing on her feet ; 
adding, that had she been near, she would have made her use them to some 
purpose. I’he Bailie, on this admission, solemnly adjudged the cow’s drink 
to be deoch an doruis — a stirrup-cuj), for which no charge could be made, 
without violating the ancient hospitality of Scotland. 

17. Page 72. This has been censured as an anachronism ; and it must 
be confessed tha igriculture of this kind was unknown to the Scotch Sixty 
Years since. 


268 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


18. Paffe 73. Smim anque. This snatch of a ballad was composed bj 
Andrew fllacDonald, the ingenious and unfortunate author of Viinonda. 

19. Page 82. Tl'he learned in cookery dissent from the Baron of Brad 
wardine, and hold the roe venison dry and inditferent food, unless when dress 
ed in soup and Scotch collops. 

20. Page 85. A bare-footed Highland lad is called a gillie-wet-foot 
Gillie, in general, means servant or attendant. 

21. Page 86. The Baron ought to have remembered that the joyous Allan 
literally drew his blood from the house of the noble Earl, whom lie terms — 

Dalhousie of an old descent, 

My stoup, my pride, my ornament. 

22. Page 93. The story last told was said to have happened in the south 

of Scotland j but — cedant anna togee — and let the gown hav’e its dues. It 
was an old clergyman, who had wisdom and firmness enough to resist the 
panic which seized his brethren, who was the means of rescuing a poor insane 
creature from the cruel fate which would otherwise hav'e overtaken her. The 
accounts of the trials for witchcraft form one of the most deplorable chapters 
in Scottish story. _ 

23. Page 95. Although canting heraldry is generally reprobated, it seems 
nevertheless to have been adopted in the arms and mottos of many honour- 
able families. Thus the motto of the Vernons, Vernon semper viret, \s a per 
feet pun, and so is that of the Onslows, Festin/t lenle. The Periissem ni per- 
iisseni of the Anstruthers is liable to a similar objection. One of that ancient 
race, finding that an antagonist, with whom he had fixed a friendly meeting, 
was determined to take the opportunity of assassinating him, prevented the 
haz ard by dashing out his brains with a battle-axe. Two sturdy arms, brand- 
ishing such a weapon, form the usual crest of the family, with the above motto 
— Periissem ni per-iissem — (I had died, unless I had gone through with it.) 

24. Page 101. A creagh was an incursion for plunder, termed on the 
Borders a raid. 

25. Page 103. So)-nars may be translated sturdy beggars, more espe- 
cially indicating those unwelcome visiters who exact lodgings and victuals by 
force, or something approaching to it. 

26. Page 109. Mac-Donald of Barrisdale,one of the very last Highland 
gentlemen who carried on the plundering system to any great extent, was a 
scholar and a well-bred gentleman. He engraved on his broadswords the 
well-known lines — 

Hee tibi erunt artes — pacisoue imponere morern, 

Parcere subjectis, et debellarc superbos. 

Indeed, the levying of black mail was, before the year 1745, practised by 
several chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing so, contended that they were 
lending the laws the assistance of their arms and swords, and aflbrding a pro- 
tection which could not be obtained from the magistracy’ in the disturbed slate 
of the country. The author has seen a Memoir of Mac-Pherson of Cluny, 
chief of that ancient clan, from which it appears that he levied protection- 
money to a very large amount, which was willingly paid even by some of his 
most powerful neighbours. A gentleman of this clan hearing a clergyman 
bold forth to his congregation on the crime of theft, interrupted the preacher 
to assure him, he might leave the enforcement of such doctrines to Cluny 
Mac-Pherson, whose broadsword would put a stop to theft sooner than all the 
sennons of all the ministers of the Synod 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


2C9 


Pa^e 113. The 1 own-guard of Edinburgh were, till a late period, 
armed with tliis weapon when on tlicir poliee-duty. Tliere was a hook at the 
nack of tlie axe, which the ancient Higlilanders used to assist them to climb 
over walls, fixing the hook upon it, and raising themselves by the handle. The 
axe, which was also much used by the natives, is supposed to have been in- 
troduced into both countries from Scandinavia. 

28. Page 118. It is not the weeping birch, the most common species io 

die Highlands, but the woolly-leaved Lowland birch, that is distinguished bv 
this fragrance. " 

29. Page 121. An adventure, very similar to what is here stated, actually 
befell the late Mr. Abercromby of TuHibo<ly, grandfather of the present Lord 
Abercromby, and father of the celebrated Sir Kalph. When this gentleman, 
who lived to a very advanced period of life, first settled in Stirlingshire, his 
cattle were repeatedly driven ofl‘ by the celebrated Rob Roy, or some of his 
gang 5 and at length he was obliged, after obtaining' a proper safe-conduct, 
to make the cateran such a visit as that of Wavcrly to Lean Lean in the text. 
Rob received him with much courtesy, and made many apologies for the ac- 
cident, which must have happened, he said, through some mistake. Mr. Aber- 
cromby was regaled with collops from two of his own cattle, which were hung 
up by the heels in the cavern, and was dismissed in perfect safely, alter 
having agreed to pay in future a small sumof black mail, in consideration of* 
which Rob Roy not only undertook to forbear his herds in future, but to re- 
place any that should be stolen from him by other freebooters. Mr. Aber- 
cromby said, Rob Roy afVecled to consider him as a friend to the Jacobite 
interest, and a sincere enemy to the Union. Neither of these circumstances 
were true; but the laird thought it quite unnecessary to undeceive bis High- 
land host at the risk of bringing on a political dispute in such a situation. 

'i bis anecdote 1 received many years since (about 1792), from the mouth of 
the venerable gentleman who was concerned in it. 

30. Page 121. This was the regale presented by Rob Roy to the Laird 
of Tullibody. 

31. Page 129. This celebrated gibbet was, in the memory of the last 
generation, still standing at the western end of the town of Crieft’, in Perth 
shire. Why it was called the kind gallows, we are unable to inform the 
reader with certainty ; but it is alleged that the Highlanders used to touch 
their bonnets as they passed a place, which had been fatal to many of thcii 
countrymen, with the ejaculation — “ God bless her nain sell, and the Tiel 
tamn you !” It may therefore have been called kind, as being a sort of na- 
tive or kindred place of doom to those who suflercd there, as in fulfilment 
of a natural destiny. 

32 Page 132. The story of the bridegroom carried off by Caterans,on 
his bridal-<lay, is taken from one which was told to the author b}' the late 
Laird of Mac-Nab, many years since. To carry off persons from the Low- 
lands, and to put them to ransom, w as a common practice with the wild High- 
landers, as it is said to be at the present day with the banditti in the south of 
Italy. Upon the occasion alluded to, a party of Caterans carried off tlie 
oridegroom, and secreted him in some cave near the mountain of Schihallion. 
I'he young man caught the small-pox before his ransom could be agree<l on ; 
and whether it w'as the fine cool air of the place, or the want of medical at- 
tendance, Mac-Nab did not pretend to be positive ; but so it was, that the 
pi isoner recovered, his ransom w as paid, and he was restored to his friends 
and bride, but always considered the Highland robber? as liaving saved his 
lifc. by their treatment of his malady. 


270 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


33. Pag'e 133, The Scotcl) arc liberal in computing their land and liquor , 
the Scottish pint corresponds to two English quarts. As lor their coir, ever^ 
one knows the couplet — 

Ilow can the rogues pretend to sense ? — 

Their pound is only twenty pence. 

3t. Page 138. This happened on many occasions. Indeed, it was not 
till after (he total destruction of the clan intluence, after 1745, that purchaseis 
could be found, who olfered afair price for the estates forfeited in 1715, which 
were then brought to sale by the creditors of the York Buildings Company, 
who had purchased the whole or greater part from gov'ertiment at a very small 
price. Even so late as the period first mentioned, the prejudices of the public 
m favour of the heirs of the forfeited families threw various impedimejits in 
the way of intending purchasers of such property. 

35. I’age 139. This sort of political game ascribed to Mac-Ivor was in 
reality played by several Highland chiefs, the celebrate<l Lord Lovat in par- 
ticular, who used that kind of finesse to the uttermost. 'I’he Laird of Mac — 
was also captain of an independent company, but valued the sweets of pres- 
ent pa}' too well to incur the risk of losing them in the Jacobite cause. His 
martial consort raised his clan, and headed it, in 1745. But the chief him- 
self would have nothing to do with king-making, declaring himself for that 

monarch, and no other, who gave the Laird of Mac “ ha!f-a-guinea the 

day, and half-a-guinea the morn.’' 

36. Page 143. In explanation of the military exercise observed at the 
Castle of Glennaquoich, the author begs to remark, that the Highlanders 
were not only well practised in the use of the broadsword, firelock, and most 
of the manly sports and trials of strength common throughout Scotland, but 
also used a peculiar sort of drill, suited to their own dress and mode of war- 
fare. There were, for instance, difl’erent modes of disposing the plaid, one 
when on a peaceful journey, another when danger was apprehended j one 
way of enveloping themselves in it when expecting undisturbed repose, and 
another which enabled them to start up with sword and pistol in hand on the 
slightest alarm. 

Previous to 1720, or thereabouts, the belted plaid was universally worn, in 
which the portion which surrounded the middle of the wearer, and that which 
was flung around his shoulders, were all of the same piece of tartan. In a 
desperate onset, all was thrown away, and the clan charged bare beneath the 
doublet, save for an artificial arrangement of the shirt, which, like that of the 
Irish, was always ample, and for the sporran-mollach, or goat’s-skin purse. 

The manner of handling the jiistol and dirk was also part of the Highland 
manual exercise, which the author has seen gone through by men who had 
learned it in their youth. 

37. Page 145. Pork, or swine’s flesh, in any shape, was, till of late years, 
«iuch abominated by the Scotch, nor is it yet a favourite food amongst them. 
King Jamie carried this prejudice to England, and is known to have abhorred 

[ )ork almost as much as he aid tobacco. Ben Jonson has recorded this pecu 
iarity, where the gipsy in a masque, examining the king's hand, says, 

you should by this line 

Love a horse, and a hound, but no part of a swine. 

The (Hipsies Metamorphosed. 

James’s own proposed banquet for the Devil, was a loin of pork and a poll of 
ling, with a pipe of tobacco for digestion. 

38. Page 146. In the number of persons of all ranks who asscml>led at 
the same table, though by no means to discuss the same fare, the Highland 
chiefs only retained a custom which had been formerly universally observed 
throughout Scotland. “ I myself,” says the traveller, Fynes IMorrison, in the 
end of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, the scene being the Lowlands o) Sco'land, 

‘ was at a knight’s house, who had many servants to attend him. ‘hat br->ughi 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


271 


in his meat with their heads covered with blue caps, the table Doing' more 
than half lurnished willi great platters of porridge, each having alittle piece 
ol sodden meat. And when the table was served, the servants did sit dow'n 
with us ; but the upper mess, instead of porridge, had a pullet, with some 
prunes in the broth.” — ( Travels, p. 155.) 

Till within this last century, the fanners, even of a respectable condition, 
dined with their work-people. The dilference betwixt those of high degree, 
■vyas ascertained by the place of the party above or below the salt, or, some- 
times, by a line drawn with chalk on the dining table. Lord Lovat, who 
knew well hpw to feed the vanity, and restrain the appetites, of his clans- 
men, allowed each sturdy Fraser, who had the slightest pretensions to be a 
Duinhe-w'assel, the full honour of the sitting, but, at the same time, took care 
that his young kinsmen did not acquire at his table any taste for outlandish 
luxuries. His lordship was always ready with some honourable apology, why 
foreign w'ines and French brandy, delicacies which he conceived might sap 
the hardy habits of his cousins, should not circulate past an assigned point 
on the table. 

39. Page 155. In the Irish ballads, relating to Fion, (the Fingal of Mac- 
Pherson,) there occurs, as in the primitive poetry of most nations, a cycle ol 
heroes, each of w'hom has some distinguishing attribute ; upon these qualities, 
and the adventures of those possessing them, many proverbs are formed, which 
are still current in the Highlands. Among other characters, Conan is distin- 
guished as in some respects a kind of Thersites, but brave and daring even 
to rashness. He had made a vow that he would never take a blow without 
returning it ; and having, like other heroes of antiquity, descended to the 
infernal regions, he received a cuff from the Arch-fiend, who presided there, 
■vN'hich he instantly returned, using the expression in the text. Sometimes the 
proverb is w'orded thus ; — “ Claw for Claw, and the devil take the shortest 
nails, as Conan said to the devil.” 

40. Page 156. The Highland poet almost always was an improvisatore. 
Captain Burt mel one of them at Lovat's table. 

41. Page 159. The description of the waterfall mentioned in this chapter 
IS taken from that of Ledeard, at the farm so called on the northern sitle ol 
Lochard, and near the head of the Lake, four or five Tniles from Aberfoyle. 
It is^ipon a small scale, but otherwise one of the most exquisite cascades it 
is possible to behold. I'he appearance of Flora with the Harp, as described, 
has been justly censured as toi> theatrical and affected for the lady-like sim- 
plicity of her character. But something may be allowed to her French ed- 
ucation, in which point and striking efiect ahvays make a considerable object. 

42. Page 162. The young and daring Adventurer, Charles Edward, land- 
ed at Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed his standard in the valley ol 
Glenfinnan, mustering around it the Mac-Donalds, the Camerons, and other 
less numerous clans, whom he had prevailed on to join him. There is a mon- 
ument erected on the spot, wi‘h a Latin inscription by the late Dr. Gregory 

43. Page 162. The Marquis of 'ruHibardine’s elder brother, who, long 
exiled, returned to Scotland with Charles Edward in 1745. 

44 . Page 166. This ancient Gaelic ditty is still well known, both in the 
Highl ands and in Ireland. It was translated into English, and published, if 1 
inis'iake not, under the auspices of the facetious Tom D’Urfey, by the title ol 

(Volley, my Cow.” 

45. Page 173. The thrust from the tynes, or branches, of the stag’s horns 
ivere accounted far more dangerous than those of the boar's tusk : — 

If thou be hurt with horn of stag, it brings thee to thy bier. 

But barber’s hand shall boar’s hurt heal j thereof have thou no fear. 


272 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


4^. Pa.ffe 174. This g'arb^ which resembled the dress often put on children 
in Scotland, called apolonie (i. e. polonaise,) is a very ancient modification ol 
the Highland garb. It was, in fact, the hauberk or shirt of mail, only comr 
posed of cloth instead of rings of armour. 

47. Page 174. Old Highlanders will still make the deasil around those 
whom they wish well to. To go round a person in the opposite direction, or 
u'UIier-shins (German widev-shins,) is unlucky, and a sort of incantation. 

4S. Page 174. This metrical spell, or something very like it, is preserved 
by Reginald Scott, in his work on VV'^itchcraft. 

49. Page 175. On the morrow they made their biers 

Of birch and hazel gray. Chevy Chase. 

50. Page'^75. The author has been sometimes accused of confounding 
fiction with reality. He therefore thinks it necessary to state, that the cir- 
cumstance of the hunting described in the text as preparatory to the insurrec- 
tion of 1745, is, so far as he knows, entirely imaginary. Rut it is well known 
such a CTeat hunting was held in the Forest of Brae-Mar, under the auspices 
of the Earl of Mar, as preparatory to the Rebellion of 1715 ; and most of the 
Highland chieftains who afterward engaged in that civil commotion were 
present on this occasion. 

51. Rage 178. Corresponding to the Lowland saying, ‘‘ Mony ane spelrs 
the gale they ken fu' weel." 

5-. Page 204. These lines form the burden of an old song to which Rums 
wrote additional verses. 

6^. Page 204. These lines are also ancient, and I believe to the tune of 
We’ll never hae peace til! Jamie comes hame } 
to which Burns likewise wrote some verses. 

54. Page 209. A Highland rhyme on Glcncairn’s Expedition, in 1G50, 
has these lines — 

We’ll bide a while among ta crows. 

We’ll wiske ta sword and bend la bows.’' 

55. Page 209. The Oggam is a species of the old Irish character. The 
idea of the correspondence between the Celtic and the Punic, founde^on a 
scene in Plautus, was not started till General Vallancey set up his theory, 
long alter the date of Fergus fllac-Ivor. 

5G. Page 211. The sanguine Jacobites, during the eventful years 1745-G, 
kept up the spirits of their party by the rumour of descents from France on 
behalf of the Chevalier St. George. 

57. Page 213. The Highlander, in former times, had always a high idea 
of his own gentility, and was anxious to impress the same upon those with 
whom he conversed. His language abounded in tl:e phrases of courtesy and 
compliment 5 and the habit of carrying arms, and mixing with those who did 
so, made it particularly desirable they should use cautious politeness in their 
intercourse vrt'ih each other. 

58. Page 228. 'Phe Re\^ John Erskine, D. D., an eminent Scottish di- 
vine, and a most excellent man, headed the Evangelical party in the Chjircli 
af Scotland at the lime when the celebrated Dr. Robertson, the historian, was 
*he lea<ler of tbe»moderate party. These two distinguished persons were 
colleagues in the Old Gray Friars’ Church, Edinburgh 5 and, however mucli 
they difiered ir. church politics, preserved the most {)Ci (ect harmony as pri 
rate friends, ai d as clergymen serving the same cure. 


END OF VOL I 


WAVERLEY ; 

OK, 

’TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE. 


VOLUME II. 


CHAPTER 1. 


Wavcrley is still in Distress. 

The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Wa- 
verley was hurried along, nearly deprived him of ^nsa- 
tion^ for the injury he had received from his fall pre- 
vented him from aiding himself so effectually as he migl.t 
otherwise have done. When this was observed by his 
conductors, they called to their aid two or three others 
of the party, and swathing our hero’s body in one of 
their plaids, divided his weight by that means among them, 
and transported him at the same rapid rate as before, 
without any exertion of his own. They spoke little, 
and that in Gaelic ; and did not slacken their pace till 
they had run nearly two miles, when they abated their 
extreme rapidity, but continued still to walk very fast, 
relieving each other occasionally. 

Our hero now' endeavoured to address them, but was 
only answered wdth “ Cha n'eil BeurV agam^^’ i. e. “ J 
have no English,” being, as Waverley well knew, the 
constant reply of a Highlander, when he either does not 


4 


WAVEllLEY. 


understand, or does not choose to reply to, an Englishman 
or Lovvlander. He then mentioned the name of Vich 
Ian Vohr, concluding that he was indebted to his friend- 
ship for his rescue from the clutches of Gifted Gilfillan ; 
but neither did ibis produce any mark of recognition 
from his escort. 

The twilight had given place to moonshine when the 
party halted upon the brink of a precipitous glen, which, 
as partly enlightened by the moonbeams, seemed full 
of trees and tangled brushwood. Two of the Highlan- 
ders dived into it by a small foot-path, as if to explore 
its recesses, and one of them returning in a few minutes, 
said something to his companions, who instantly raised 
their burden, and bore him, with great attention and care, 
down the narrow and abrupt descent. Notwithstanding 
their precautions, however, Waverley’s person came more 
than once into contact, rudely enough, with the project- 
ing stumps and branches which overhung the pathway. 

At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed, by 
the side of a brook, (forWaverley heard the rushing of 
a considerable body of water, although its stream was 
invisible in the darkness,) the party again stopped before 
a small and rudely-constructed hovel. The door was 
open, and the inside of the premises appeared as un- 
comfortable and rude as its situation and exterior fore- 
boded There was no appearance of a floor of any 
kind ; the roof seemed rent in several places ; the walls 
were composed of loose stones and turf, and the thatch 
of branches of trees. The fire was in the centre, and 
filled the whole wigwam with smoke, which escaped as 
much through the door as by means of a circular aper- 
ture in the roof. An old Highland sibyl, the only in- 
habitant of this forlorn mansion, appeared busy in the 
preparation of some food. By the light which the fire 
afforded, Waverley could discover that his attendants 
were not of the clan of Ivor, for Fergus was particularly 
strict in requiring from his followers that they should 
wear the tartan striped in the mode peculiar to their 
race ; a mark of distinction anciently general through 


AVAVKRLK Y. 


5 


the High lands, and still maintained by those Chiefs who 
were proud of their lineage, or jealous of their separate 
and exclusive authority. 

Edward had lived at Glennaquoich long enough to be 
aware of a distinction which he had repeatedly heard 
noticed, and now satisfied that he had no interest with 
his attendants, he glanced a disconsolate eye around the 
interior of the cabin. The only furniture, excepting a 
washing-tub, and a wooden press, called in Scotland an 
ambry j sorely decayed, was a large wooden bed, planked, 
as is usual, all around, and opening by a sliding pannel. 
In this recess the Highlanders deposited Waverley, after 
he had by signs declined any refreshment. His slum- 
bers were broken and unrefreshing ; strange visions pas- 
sed before his eyes, and it required constant and reiter- 
ated efforts of mind to dispel them. Shivering, violent 
headache, and shooting pains in his limbs, succeeded 
these symptoms ; and in the morning it was evident to 
his Highland attendants, or guard, for he knew not in 
which light to consider them, that Waverley was quite 
unfit to travel. 

After a long consultation among themselves, six of the 
party left the hut with their arms, leaving behind an old 
and a young man. The former undressed Waverley, 
and bathed the contusions, which swelling and livid col- 
our now made conspicuous. His own portmanteau, which 
the Highlanders had not failed to bring off, supplied him 
with linen, and, to his'great surprise, was, with all its undi* 
minished contents, freely resigned to his use. The bed- 
ding of his couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his 
aged attendant closed the door of the bed, for it had no 
curtain, after a few words of Gaelic, from which Waver- 
ley gathered that he exhorted him to repose. So behold 
our hero for a second time the patient of a Highland 
Esculapius, but in a situation much more uncomfortable 
than when he was the guest of the worthy Tomanrait. 

The symptomatic fever which accompanied the inju- 
ries he had sustained, did not abate till the third day, 

VOL. II. 


6 


'NVAVEULEY. 


when it ga^e way to the care of his attendants and the 
strength of his constitution, and he could now raise iiim- 
self in his bed, though not without pain. He observed, 
however, that there was a great disinclination, on the 
part of the old woman who acted as his nurse, as well 
as on that of the elderly Highlander, to permit the door 
of the bed to be left open, so that he might amuse him- 
self with observing their motions ; and at length, after 
Waverley had repeatedly drawn open, and they had as 
frequently shut, the hatchway of his cage, the old gen- 
tleman put an end to the contest, by securing it on the 
outside with a nail so effectually, that the door could not 
be drawn till this exterior impediment was removed. 

While musing upon the cause of this contradictory 
spirit in persons whose conduct intimated no purpose of 
plunder, and wdio, in all other points, appeared to consult 
his welfare and his wishes, it occurred to our hero, that, 
during the worst crisis of his illness, a female figure, 
younger than his old Highland nurse, had appeared to 
flit around his couch. Of this, indeed, he had but a 
very indistinct recollection, but his suspicions w^ere con- 
firmed, when, attentively listening, he often heard, in the 
course of the day, the voice of another female convers- 
ing in whispers with his attendant. Who could it be ? 
And why should she apparently desire concealment ? 
Fancy immediately roused herself, and turned to Flora 
Mac-Jvor. But after a short conflict between his eager 
desire to believe she was in his neighbourhood, guarding, 
like an angel of mercy, the couch of his sickness, Wa- 
verley was compelled to conclude that his conjecture 
was altogether improbable ; since, to suppose she had 
left her comparatively safe situation at Glennaquoich to 
descenfl into the Low Country, now the seat of civil w^ar, 
and to inhabit such a lurking-place as this, w^as a thing 
hardly to be imagined. Yet his heart bounded as he 
sometimes could distinctly hear the trip of a light female 
siep glide to or from the door of the hut, or the sup- 
pressed sounds of a female voice, of softness and delica- 
cy hold dialogue with the hoarse inward croak of old 


WAVE RLE Y. 


7 


Janet, for so he understood his antiquated attendant was 
denominated. 

Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employ- 
ed himself in contriving some plan to gratify his curios- 
ity, -in despite of the sedulous caution of Janet and the 
old Highland Janizary, for he had never seen the young 
fellow since the first morning. At length, upon accurate 
examination, the infirm state of his wooden prison-house 
appeared to supply the means of gratifying his curiosity, 
for out of a spot which was somewhat decayed he was 
able to extract a nail. Through this minute aperture he 
could perceive a female form, wrapped in a plaid, in the 
act of conversing with Janet. But, since the days of 
our grandmother Eve, the gratification of inordinate cu- 
riosity has generally borne its penalty in disappointment. 
The form was not that of Flora, nor was the face visible ; 
and, to Clown his vexation, while he laboured with 
the nail to enlarge the hole, that he might obtain a more 
complete view, a slight noise betrayed his purpose, and 
the object of his curiosity instantly disappeared ; nor, so 
far as he could observe, did she again revisit the cottage. 

All precautions to blockade his view were from that 
time abandoned, and he was not only permitted, but as- 
sisted, to rise, and quit what had been, in a literal sense, 
his couch of confinement. But he was not allowed to 
leave the hut ; for the young Highlander had now re- 
joined his senior, and one or other was constantly on 
the watch. Whenever Waverley approached the cot- 
tage door, the sentinel upon duty civilly, but resolutely, 
placed himself against it and opposed his exit, accom- 
panying his action with signs w’hich seemed to imply 
there was danger in the attempt, and an enemy in the 
neighbourhood. Old Janet appeared anxious and upon 
the watch ; and Waverley, who had not yet recovered 
strength enough to attempt to take his departure in spite 
of the opposition of his hosts, .was under the necessity 
nf remaining patient. His fare was, in every point of 
view, better than he could have conceived ; for poultry, 
and even wine, were no strangers to his table. The 


8 


AVAVERLEY. 


Highlanders never presumed to eat with him, and, unless 
in the circumstance of watching him, treated him with 
great respect. His sole amusement was gazing from the 
window, or rather the shapeless aperture which was 
meant to answer the purpose of a window, upon a large 
and rough brook, which raged and foamed through a 
rocky channel, closely canopied with trees and bushes, 
about ten feet beneath the site of his house of captivity. 

Upon the sixth day of his confinement, Waverley found 
himself so well, that he began to meditate his escape 
from this dull and miserable prison-house, thinking any 
risk which he might incur in the attempt, preferable to 
the stupifying and intolerable uniformity of Janet’s re- 
tirement. The question indeed occurred, whither he was 
to direct his course when again at his own disposal. 
Two schemes seemed practicable, yet both attended with 
danger and difficulty. One was to go back to Glenna- 
quoich, and join Fergus Mac-Ivor, by whom he was 
sure to be kindly received ; and in the present state of 
his mind, the rigour with which he had been treated, 
fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his allegiance 
to the existing government. The other project was to 
endeavour to attain a Scottish sea-port, and thence to 
take shipping for England. His mind wavered between 
these plans, and probably, if he had effected his escape 
in the manner he proposed, he would have been finally 
determined by the comparative facility by which either 
might have been executed. But his fortune had settled 
that he was not to be left to his option. 

Upon the evening of the seventh day, the door of the 
hut suddenly opened, and two Highlanders entered, 
whom Waverley recognized as having been a part of his 
original escort to this cottage. They conversed for a 
short time with the old man and his companion, and then 
made Waverley understand, by very significant signs, that 
he was to prepare to accompany them. This was a 
joyful communication. What had already passed during 
his confinement, made it evident that no personal injury 
was designed to him ; and his romantic spirit, having 


WAVE RLE Y. 


9 


recovered during his repose, much of that elasticity which 
anxiety, resentment, disappointment, and the mixture of 
unpleasant feelings excited by his late adventures had 
for a time subjugated, was now wearied with inaction 
His passion for the wonderful, although it is the nature 
of siich dispositions to be excited by that degree of dan- 
ger which merely gives dignity to the feeling of the in- 
dividual exposed to it, had sunk under the extraordinary 
and apparently insurmountable evils by which he appear- 
ed environed at Cairnvreckan. In fact, this compound 
of intense curiosity and exalted imagination, forms a 
peculiar species of courage, which somewhat resembles 
•the ight usually carried by a miner, sufficiently competent 
indeed, to afford him guidance and comfort during the 
ordinary perils of his labour, but certain to be extinguish- 
ed should he encounter the more formidable hazard of 
earth-damps or pestiferous vapours. It was now, how- 
ever, once more rekindled, and with a throbbing mixture 
of hope, awe, and anxiety, Waverley watched the group 
before him, as those who were just arrived snatched a 
hasty meal, and the others assumed their arms, and made 
brief preparations for their departure. 

As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the 
fire, around which the others were crowded, he felt a 
gentle pressure upon his arm. He looked round — It was 
Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean. She showed 
him a packet of papers in such a manner that the motion 
was remarked by no one else, put her finger for a second 
to her lips, and passed on as if to assist old Janet in 
packing Waverley’s clothes in his portmanteau. It was 
obviously her wish that he should not seem to recognize 
her ; yet she repeatedly looked back at him' as an op- 
portunity occurred of doing so unobserved, and when she 
saw that he remarked what she did, she folded the packet 
with great address and speed in one of his shirts, which 
she deposited in the portmanteau. 

Here then was fresh food for conjecture. Was Alice 
his unknown warden, and was this maiden of the cavern 
the tutelar genius that watched his bed during his sick- 


10 


WAVE RLE Y. 


ness ? Was he in the hands of her father ? and if so 
ivhat was his purpose f Spoil, his usual object, seemed 
in this case neglected ; for not only Waverley’s property 
was restored, but bis purse, which might have tempted 
this professional plunderer, had been all along suffered 
to remain in his possession. All this perhaps the packet 
might explain ; but it was plain from Alice’s manner, 
that she desired he should consult it in secret. Nor did 
she again seek his eye after she had satisfied herself that 
her manoeuvre was observed and understood. On the 
contrary, she shortly afterwards left the hut, and it was 
only as she tripped out from the door, that, favoured by 
the obscurity, she gave Waverley a parting smile, and* 
nod of significance, ere she vanished in the dark glen. 

The young Highlander was repeatedly despatched by 
his comrades as if to collect intelligence. At length, 
when he had returned for the third or fourth time, the 
whole party arose, a!nd made signs to our hero to accom- 
pany them. Before his departure, however, he shook 
hands with old Janet, who had been so sedulous in his 
behalf, and added substantial marks of his gratitude for 
her attendance. 

‘‘ God bless you ! God prosper you, Captain Waver- 
ley !” said Janet, in good Lowland Scotch, though he 
had never hitherto heard her utter a syllable, save in 
Gaelic. But the impatience of his attendants prohibited 
his asking any explanation. 


CHAPTER 11. 

JVocturnal Adventure, 

There was a moment’s pause when the whole party 
had got out of the hut, and the Highlander who assum- 
ed the command, and who, in Waverley’s awakened 


WAVE RLE T. 


11 


recollection, seemed to be the same tall figure who had 
acted as Donald Bean Lean’s lieutenant, by whispers 
and signs imposed the strictest silence. He delivered 
to Edward a sword and steel pistol, and, pointing up the 
track, laid his hand on the hilt of his own claymore, as 
if to make him sensible they might have occasion to use 
force to make good their passage. He then placed him- 
self at the head of the party, who moved up the path- 
way m single or Indian file, Waverley being placed near- 
est to their leader. He moved with great precaution, as 
if to avoid giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he 
came to the verge of the ascent. Waverley was soon 
sensible of the reason, for he heard at no great distance 
an English sentinel call out “ All’s well.” The heavy 
sound sunk on the night-wind down the woody glen, 
and was answered by the echoes of its banks. A second, 
third, and fourth time the signal was repeated fainter and 
fainter, as if at a greater and greater distance. It was 
obvious that a party of soldiers were near, and upon their 
guard, though not sufficiently so to detect men skilful in 
every art of predatory warfare, like those with whom he 
now watched their ineffectual precautions. 

When these sounds had died upon the silence of the 
night, the Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet 
with the most cautious silence. Waverley had little time, 
or indeed disposition for observation, and could only dis- 
cern that they passed at some distance from a large build- 
ing, in the windows of which a light or two yet seemed 
to twinkle. A little farther on, the leading Highlander 
snuffed the wind like a setting spaniel, and then made a 
signal to his party again to halt. He stooped down upon 
all fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to be scarce dis- 
tinguishable from the heathy ground on which he moved, 
and advanced in this posture to reconnoitre. In a short 
time he'returned, and dismissed his attendants excepting 
one ; and, intimating to Waverley that he must imitate 
his cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept forward 
on hands and knees. 


12 


WAVEllLEY. 


After pioceeding a greater way in this inconvenient 
manner than was at all comfortable to his knees and shins, 
Waverley perceived the smell of smoke, which probably 
had been much sooner distinguished by the more acute 
nasal organs of his guide. It proceeded from the corner 
of a low and ruinous sheep-fold, the walls of which were 
made of loose stones, as is usual in Scotland. Close by 
this low wall the Highlander guided Waverley, and in 
order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or 
perhaps to obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he 
intimated to him, by sign and example, that he might 
raise his head so as to peep into the sheep-fold. Wa- 
verley did so, and beheld an outpost of four or five sol- 
diers lying by their watch-fire. They were all asleep, 
except the sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards 
with his firelock on his shoulder, which glanced red in 
the light of the fire as he crossed and re-crossed before 
it in his short walk, casting his eye frequently to that part 
of the heavens from which the moon, hitherto obscured 
by mist, seemed now about to make her appearance. 

In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sud- 
den changes of atmosphere incident to a mountainous 
country, a breeze arose, and swept before it the clouds 
which had covered the horizon, and the night planet 
poured her full effulgence upon a wide and blighted heath, 
skirted indeed with copsewood and stunted trees in the 
quarter from which they had come, but open and bare 
to the observation of the sentinel in that to which their 
course tended. The wall of the sheep-fold indeed con- 
cealed them as they lay, but any advance beyond its 
shelter seemed impossible without certain discovery. 

The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from bles- 
sing the useful light with Homer’s, or rather Pope’s, be- 
nighted peasant, he muttered a Gaelic curse upon the 
unseasonable splendour of M^Farlane^s bunt (f. e. lan- 
tern.)^ He looked anxiously around for a few minutes, 
and then apparently took his resolution. Leaving his 
attendant with Waverley, after motioning to Edward to 
remain quiet, and giving his comrade directions in a brief 


WAVERLEY* 


13 


whisper, he retreated, favoured by the irregularity of 
the ground, in tlie same direction and in the same man- 
ner as they had advanced. ' Edward, turning his head 
after him, could perceive him crawling on all fours with 
the dexterity of an Indian, availing himself of every bush 
and inequality to escape observation, and never passing 
over the more exposed parts of his track until the sen- 
tinel’s back was turned from him. At length he reach- 
ed the thickets and underwood which partly covered the 
moor in that direction, and probably extended to the 
verge of the glen where Waverley had been so long an 
inhabitant. The Highlander disappeared, but it was 
only for a few minutes, for he suddenly issued forth from 
a different part of the thicket, and advancing boldly upon 
the open heath, as if to invite discovery, he levelled his 
piece, and fired at the sentinel. A wound in the arm 
proved a disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow’s 
meteorological observations, as well as to the tune of 
Nancy Dawson, which he was whistling. He returned 
the fire ineffectually, and his comrades, starting up at the 
alarm, advanced alertly towards the spot from which the 
first shot had issued. The Highlander, after giving them 
a full view of his person, dived among the thickets, for 
his ruse de guerre had now perfectly succeeded. 

While the soldiers pursued the cause of their distur- 
bance in one direction, *VVaverley, adopting the hint of 
his remaining attendant, made the best of his speed in 
that which his guide originally intended to pursue, and 
which now (the attention of the soldiers being drawn to 
a different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded. 
When they had run about a quarter of a mile, the brow 
of a rising ground, which they had surmounted, conceal- 
ed them from further risk of observation. They still 
heard, however, at a distance, the shouts of the soldiers as 
they hallooed to each other upon the heath, and they could 
also hear, the distant roll of a drum beating to arms in the 
same direction. But these hostile sounds were now far 
15 von. II. 


M 


'WAVERLEY. 


in their rear, and died away upon the breeze as they 
rapidly proceeded. 

When they had walked about half an hour, stil along 
open and waste ground of the same description, they 
came to the stump of an ancient' oak, which, from iu 
relics appeared to have been at one time a tree of very 
large size. In an adjacent hollow I hey found several 
Highlanders, with a horse or two. They had not joined 
them above a few minutes, which Waverley’s attendant 
employed, in all probability, in communicating the cause 
of their delay, (for the words‘Duncan Duroch’ were often 
repeated,) when Duncan himself appeared, out of breath 
indeed, and with all the symptoms of having run for his 
life, but laughing, and in high spirits at the success of the 
stratagem by which he had baffled his pursuers. This 
indeed Waverley could easily conceive might be a mat- 
ter of no great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who 
was perfectly acquainted with the ground, and traced his 
course with a firmness and confidence to which his pur- 
suers must have been strangers. The alarm which he 
excited seemed still to continue, for a dropping shot or 
two were heard at a great distance, which seemeji to 
serve as an addition to the mirth of Duncan and his 
comrades. 

The mountaineer now resunjed the arms with which 
he had intrusted our hero, giving him to understand that 
the dangers of the journey were happily surmounted. 
Waverley was then mounted upon one of the horses, a 
change which the fatigue of the night and his recent ill- 
ness rendered exceedingly acceptable. His portmanteau 
was placed on another pony, Duncan mounted a third, 
and they set forward at a round pace, accompanied by 
their escort. No other incident marked the course of 
that night’s journey, and at the dawn of morning they 
attained the banks of a rapid river. The country around 
was at once fertile and romantic. Steep banks of wood 
were broken by corn fields, which this year presented an 
abundant harvest, already in a great measure cut down. 


WAVERLEY. 


15 


On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surround- 
ed by a winding of its stream, stood a large and massive 
castle, the half-ruined turrets of which were already 
glittering in the first rays of the sun.^ It was in form an 
oblong square, of size sufficient to contain a large court 
in the centre. The towers at each angle of the square 
rose higher than the walls of the building, and were in 
their turn surmounted by turrets, differing in height and 
irregular in shape. Upon one of these a sentinel watch- 
ed, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in the wind, de- 
clared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white ensign, 
which floated from another tower, announced that the 
garrison was hold by the insurgent adherents of the house 
of Stuart. 

Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where 
their appearance excited neither surprise nor curiosity in 
the few peasants whom the labours of the harvest began 
to summon from their repose, the party crossed an an- 
cient and narrow bridge of several arches, and turning 
to the left, up an avenue of huge old sycamores, Wa- 
verley found himself in front of the gloomy yet pictur- 
esque structure which he had admired at a distance. 
A huge iron-;grated door, which formed the exterior 
defence of the gateway, was already thrown back to re- 
ceive them ; and a second, heavily constructed of oak, 
and studded thickly with iron nails, being next opened, 
admitted them into the interior court-yard. A gentle- 
man, dressed in the Highland garb, and having a white 
cockade in his bonnet, assisted Waverley to dismount 
from his horse, and with much courtesy bid him welcome 
to the castle. 

The governor, for so we must term him, having con- 
ducted Waverley to a half-ruinous apartment, where, 
however, there was a small camp-bed, and having offer- 
ed him any refreshment which he desired, was then 
about to leave him. 

“ Will you not add to your civilities,” said Waverley, 
after having made the usual acknowledgment, “ by hav- 


16 


WAVERLEl. 


ng the kindness to inform me where I am, and whethei 
or not 1 am to consider myself as a prisoner 

“ 1 am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this sub- 
ject as 1 could wish. Briefly, however, you are in the 
Castle of Doune, in the district of Menteith, and in no 
danger whatever.” 

“ And how am I assured of that 
By the honour of Donald Stuart, governor of the 
garrison, and lieutenant-colonel in the service of his 
Royal Highness Prince Charles Edward.” So saying 
he hastily left the apartment, as if to avoid further dis- 
cussion. 

Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now 
threw himself upon the bed, and was in a few minutes 
fast asleep. 


CHAPTER 111. 

The Journey is continued. 

Before Waverley awakened from his repose, the day 
was far advanced, and he began to feel that he had pass- 
ed many hours without food. This was soon supplied 
in form of a copious breakfast ; but Colonel Stuart, as 
if wishing to avoid the queries of his guest, did not again 
present himself. His compliments were, however, de- 
livered by a servant, with an offer to provide any thing 
in his power that could be useful to Captain Waverley 
on his journey, which he intimated would be continued 
that evening. To Waverley’s further inquiries, the ser- 
vant opposed the impenetrable barrier of real or affect- 
ed ignorance and stupidity. He removed the table and 
provisions, and Waverley was again consigned to his own 
meditations. 

As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, 
which seemed to delight in placing him at the disposal 


WAVERLEY. 


17 


of otliers, without the power of directing his own motions, 
Edward’s eye suddenly rested upon his portmanteau, 
which had been deposited in his apartment during his 
sleep. The mysterious appearance of Alice, in the cot- 
tage of the glen, immediately rushed upon his mind, and 
he was about to secure and examine the packet which 
she had deposited among his clothes, when the servant of 
Colonel Stuart again made his appearance, and took up 
the portmanteau upon his shoulders. 

‘‘ May I not take out a change of linen, my friend 

“ Your honour sail get ane o’ the colonel’s ain ruffled 
sarks, but this maun gang in the baggage-cart.” 

And so saying, he very coolly carried off the port- 
manteau, without waiting further remonstrance, leaving 
our hero in a state where disappointment and indignation 
struggled for the mastery. In a few minutes he heard 
a cart rumble out of the rugged court-yard, and made 
no doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a space at 
least, if not forever, of the only documents which seem- 
ed to promise some light upon the dubious events which 
had of late influenced his destiny. With such melan- 
choly thoughts he had to beguile about four or five hours 
of solitude. 

When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse 
wasjieard in the court-yard, and Colonel Stuart soon after 
made his appearance to request his guest to take some 
further refreshment before his departure. The offer 
was accepted, for a late breakfast had by no means left 
our hero incapable of doing honour to dinner, which was 
now presented. The conversation of his host was that 
of a plain country gentleman, mixed with some soldier- 
like sentiments and expressions. He cautiously avoided 
any reference to the military operations, or civil politics 
of the time : and to Waverley’s direct inquiries concern- 
ing some of these points, replied, that he was nof*at lib- 
erty to speak upon such topics. 

When dinner was finished, the governor arose, and, wisk- 
ing*Edwar(J a good journey, said, that having been inform- 
VOL. II. 


18 


WA VHH 


ed by Waverley’s servant that his baggage had been sent 
forward, he had taken the freedom to supjdy him with 
such changes of linen as he might find necessary till he 
was again possessed of his own. \\ ith this compliment 
he disappeared. A servant acquainted Waverley an in- 
stant afterwards, that his horse was ready. 

Upon this hint he descended into the court-yard, and 
found a trooper holding a saddled horse, on which he 
mounted, and sallied from the portal of Donne Castle, 
attended by about, a score of armed men on horseback. 
These had less the appearance of regular soldiers than 
of individuals who had suddenly assumed arms from some 
pressing motive of unexpected emergency. Their uni- 
form, which was blue and red, an alTectcd imitation of that 
of the French chasseurs, was in many respects incomplete, 
and sat awkwardly upon those who wore it. Waverley’s 
eye, accustomed to look at a well-disciplined regiment, 
could easily discover that the motions and habits of his 
escort were not those of trained soldiers, and that, although 
ex[>ert enough m the management of their horses, their 
skill was that of huntsmen or grooms, rather than of 
troopers. The horses were not trained to the regular 
pac e so necessary to execute simultaneous and combined 
movements and formations ; nor did they seem bitted 
(as it is technically expressed) for the use of the sword. 
The men, however, were stout, hardy-looking fellows, 
and might be individually formidable as irregular cavalry. 
The commander of this small party was mounted upon 
an excellent hunter, and although dressed in uniform, 
his change of apparel did not prevent Waverley from 
recognizing his old acquaintance, Mr. Falconer of Bal- 
mawhapple. 

Now, although the terms upon which Edward had part- 
ed with this gentleman were none of the most friendly, he 
would have sacrificed every recollection of their foolish 
quarrel, for the pleasure of enjoying once more the so- 
cial intercourse of question and answ^er, from which he 
had been so long secluded. But apparently the re- 
membrance of his defeat by the Baron of Bradwardine, 


WAVKULKV. 


IS 


nf which Edward had been the unwilling cause, stil 
rankled in the mind of the low-bred, and yet proud laird 
He carefully avoided giving the least sign of recognition, 
riding doggedly at the head of his men, who, though 
scarce equal in numbers to a serjeant’s party, were de- 
nominated Captain Falconer’s troop, being preceded b) 
a trumpet, which sounded from time to time, and a stand- 
ard, borne by Cornet Falconer, the laird’s younger 
brother. The lieutenant, an elderly man, had much the 
air of a low sportsman and boon companion ; an expres- 
sion of dry humour predominated in his countenance 
over features of a vulgar cast, which indicated habitual 
intemperance. His cocked hat was set knowingly upon 
one side of his head, and while he whistled the “ Bob 
of Dumblain” under the influence of half a mutchkin of 
brandy, he seemed to trot merrily forward, with a hap- 
py indifference to the state of the country, the conduct 
of the party, the end of the journey, and all other sub- 
lunary matters whatever. 

From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside 
of his horse, Waverley hoped to acquire some informa- 
tion, or at least to beguile the way with talk. 

“ A fine evening, sir,” was Edward’s salutation. 

“ Ow, ay. Sir! a bra’ night,” replied the lieutenant, in 
broad Scotch of the most vulgar description. 

And a fine harvest, apparently,” continued Waver- 
ley, following up his first attack. 

“ Ay, the aits will be got bravely in : but the farmers, 
de’il burst them, and the corn-mongers, will make the 
auld price gude against them as has horses till keep.” 

‘‘ You perhaps act as quarter-master, sir ?” 

Ay, quarter-master, riding-master, and lieutenant,” 
answered this officer of all work. “ And, to be sure, wha’.s 
fitter to look after the breaking and the keeping of the i)oor 
beasts than mysel, that bought and sold every ane o’ them ?” 

“ And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may 
[ beg to know where we are going just now 

“ A fule’s errand, 1 fear,” answered this communica- 
V ve personage. 

In that case.” said Waverley, determined not to 


20 


>VAVEllLEy. 


spare civility, “ I should have thought a person of youi 
appearance would not have been found on the road.” 

“ Vera true, vera true, sir,” replied the olFicer, “ but 
every why lias its wherelore. Ve maun ken, the laird 
there bought a’ ihir beasts frae 'me to munt his troop, and 
agreed to pay for them according to tire necessities and 
prices of the time. But then he hadna the ready penny, 
and 1 hae been advised his bond vvill'iiot be worth a bod- 
dle against the estate, and then 1 had a’ my dealers to settle 
wi’ at iMartinmas ; and so as he very kindly offered me 
this commission, and as the auld Fifieerfi wad never help 
me to my siller for sending out naigs against the govern- 
ment, why, conscience ! sir, I thought my best chance for 
payment was e’en to gae ovl"^ mysel ; and ye may judge, 
sir, as 1 hae dealt a’ my life in halters, 1 think na mickle 
o’ putting my craig in peril of a St. Johnstone’s tippet.” 

“ You are not, then, by profession a soldier ?” said 
VVaverley. 

“ Na, na, thank God,” answered this doughty partizan, 
“ I wasna bred at sae short a tether ; I was brought up 
to hack and manger. I was bred a horse-couper, sir ; 
and if 1 might live t6 see you at Whitson-tryst, or at 
Stagshaw-bank, or the winter fair at Hawick, and ye 
wanted a spanker that would lead the field, i’se be cau- 
tion I would serve ye easy, for Jamie Jinker was ne’er 
the lad to impose.upon a gentleman. Ye’re a gentleman, 
sir, and should ken a horse’s points ; ye see that through- 
ganging thing that Balmawhapple’s on : 1 selled her till 
him. She was bred out of Lick-the-Ladle, that wan 
the king’s plate at Caverton-Edge, by Duke Hamilton’s 
White-Foot,” &ic. &,c. &,c. 

But as Jinker was entered full sail upon the pedigree 
of Balmawhapple’s mare, having already got as far as 
great grand-sire and great grand-dam, and while Waverley 
was watching for an 0 ])])ortunity to obtain from him in- 
telligence of more interest, the noble captain checked 
his horse until they came up, and then, without directly 
appearing to notice Edward, said sternly to the geneal- 
ogist, “ I thought, lieutenant, my orders were precee.-e, 
that no one should speak to the prisoner ?’ 


AVAVERLEY, 


2 ] 


The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of 
course, and slunk to the rear, where he consoled him- 
self by entering into a vehement dispute upon the price 
of hay with a farmer, who had reluctantly followed his 
laird to the field, rather than give up his farm, whereof 
the lease had just expired. Waverley was therefore 
once more consigned to silence, foreseeing that further 
attempts at conversation with any of the party, would 
only give Balmawhapple a wished-for opportunity to dis- 
play the insolence of authority, and the sulky spite of a 
temper naturally dogged, and rendered more so by habits 
of low indulgence and the mcense of servile adulation. 

In about two hours time, the party were near the Cas- 
tle of Stirling, over whose battlements the union flag was 
brightened as it waved in the evening sun. To shorten 
his journey, or perhaps to display his importance and 
insult the English garrison, Balmawhapple, inclining to 
the right, took his route through the royal park, which 
reaches- to and surrounds the rock upon which the for- 
tress is situated. 

With a mind more at ease, Waverley could not have 
failed to admire the mixture of romance and beauty which 
renders interesting the scene through which he was now 
passing — the field which had been the scene of the tour- 
naments of old — the rock from which the ladies beheld 
the contest, while each made vows for the success of 
some favourite knight — the towers of the Gothic church, 
where these vows might be paid — and, surmounting all, 
the fortress itself, at once a castle and palace, where val- 
our received the prize from royalty, and knights and 
dames closed the evening amid the revelry of the dance, 
the song, and the feast. All these were objects fitted to 
arouse and interest a romantic imagination. 

But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and 
an incident soon occurred of a nature to disturb medi- 
tation of any kind. Balmawhapple, in the pride of his 
heart, as he wheeled his littl'S body of cavalry around the 
base of the castle, commanded his trumpet to sound a 
flourish, and his sta \dard to be displayed. This insull 


22 


WAVE RLE Y. 


produced apparently sonae sensation ; for when the cav- 
alcade was at such distance from the southern battery 
as to admit of a gun being depressed so as to bear upon 
them, a flash of lire issued from one of the embrazures 
upon the rock ; and ere the report, W'ith which it was 
attended, could be lieard, the rushing sound of a cannon- 
ball passed over Balmawbapple’s head, and the bullet 
burying itself in the ground at a few yards distance, cov- 
ered him with the earth which it drove up. There was 
no need to bid the party trudge. In fact, every man act- 
ing upon the impulse of the moment, soon brought Mr. 
Jinker’s steeds to sliow their mettle, and the cavaliers, 
retreating with more speed than regularity, never took 
to a trot, as the lieutenant afterwards observed, until 
an intervening eminence had secured- them from any 
repetition of so undesirable a compliment on the part of 
Stirling Castle. 1 must do Balmawhapple, however, the 
justice to say, that he not only kept the rear of his troop, 
and laboured to maintain some order among them, but 
in the height of his gallantry, answered the fire of the 
castle by discharging one of his horse-pistols at the bat- 
tlements ; although, the distance ffeing nearly Iialf a mile, 
I could never learn that this measure of retaliation was 
attended wdth any particular effect. 

The travellers now passed the memorable field of Ban- 
nockburn, and reached the Torwood, a place glorious or 
terrible to the recollections of the Scottish peasant, as 
the feats of Wallace, or the cruelties of Wude Willie 
Grime, predominate in his recollection. At Falkirk, a 
town formerly famous in Scottish history, and soon to be 
again distinguished as the scene of military events of im- 
portance, Balmawhapple proposed to halt and repose for 
the evening. Tiiis was performed with very little regard 
to military disci})line, his worthy cjuarter-rnaster .being 
chiefly solicitous Ic discover where the best brandy might 
be come at. Sentinels were deemed unnecessary, and 
.he only vigils performed were those of such of the party 
as could procure liquor. A few resolute men might- 
easily have cut off the detachment ; but of the inhabitants 


WAVERLEY. 


.23 


some were favourable, many indifferent, and the rer.f 
overawed. So nothing memorable occurred in the course 
of the evening, except that Waverley’s rest was sore- 
ly interrupted by the revellers hallooing forth their Jac- 
obite songs, without remorse or mitigation of voice. 

Early in the morning they were again mounted, and on 
the road to Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of 
some of the troop betrayed that they had spent a night 
of sleepless debauchery. They halted at Linlithgow, 
distinguished by its ancient palace, which. Sixty Years 
Since, was entire and habitable, and whose venerable 
ruins, not quite Sixty Years Since, very narrowly escap- 
ed the unW'Orthy fate of being converted into a bairack 
for Fiench 'prisoners. May repose and blessings attend 
the ashes of the patriotic statesman, who, among his last 
services to Scotland, interposed to prevent this profana- 
tion ! 

As they approached the metropolis- of Scotland, 
through a champaign and cultivated country, the sounds 
of ‘war began to be heard. The distant, yet distinct re- 
port of heavy cannon, fired at intervals, apprized Wa- 
verley that the work of destruction was going forwat;d. 
Even Btii^nawhapple seemed moved to take some pre- 
cautions, by sending an advanced party in front of his 
troop, keeping the main body in tolerable order, and 
moving steadily forward. 

Marching in this manner they speedily reached an 
eminence, from which they could view Edinburgh 
stretching along the ridgy hill which slopes eastward from 
the Castle. The latter, being in a state of siege, or 
rather of blockade, by the northern insurgents, who had 
already occupied the towm for two or three days, fired 
at intervals upon such parties of Highlanders as exposed 
themselves, either on the main street, or elsewhere in 
the vicinity of the fortress. The morning being calm 
and fair, the effect of this dropping fire was to invest 
the Castle in wreaths of smoke, the edges of which dis- 
sipated slowly in the air, while the central veil was dark- 
ened ever and anon by fresh clouds poured forth from 


24 


WAVE RLE Y. 


the battlements ; the whole giving, by the partial con. 
cealment, an appearance of grandeur and gloom, ren- 
dered more terrific when Waverley reflected on the 
cause by which it was produced, and that each explosion 
might ring some brave man’s knell. 

Ere tliey approached the city, the partial cannonade 
had wholly ceased. Balmawhapple, however, having 
in his recollection the unfriendly greeting which his 
troop had received from the battery of Stirling, had ap- 
parently no wish to tempt the forbearance of the artillery 
of the Castle. He therefore left the direct road, and 
sweeping considerably to the southward, so as to keep out 
of the range of the cannon, approached the ancient palace 
of Holy rood, without having entered the walls of the 
city. He then drew up his men in front of that ven- 
erable pile, and delivered Waverley to the custody of a 
guard of Highlanders, whose officer conducted him into 
the interior of the building. 

A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with 
pictures, affirmed to be the portraits of kings, who, if 
they ever flourished at all, lived several hundred years 
be^fore the invention of painting in oil colours, served as 
a sort of guard chamber, or vestibule, to the apartments 
which the adventurous Charles Edward now occupied 
in the palace of his ancestors. Officers, both in the 
Highland and Lowland garb, passed and re-passed in 
haste, or loitered in the hall, as if waiting for orders. 
Secretaries were engaged in making out passes, musters, 
and returns. All seemed busy, and earnestly intent upon 
something of importance ; but Waverley was suffered 
to remain seated in the recess of a window unnoticed by 
any one, in anxious reflection upon the crisis of his fate, 
which seemed now rapidly approaching. 


WAVERLEY. 


2d 


CHAPTER IV. 

j^n Old and a JVeio Acquaint xnce. 

While he was deep sunk in his reverie, the lustle of 
tartans was heard behind him, a friendly arm clasped 
his shoulders, and a friendly voice exclaimed, 

‘‘ Said the Highland prophet sooth ? Or must second 
sight go for nothing 

Waverley turned, and was warmly embraced by Fer- 
gus Mac-lvor. “ A thousand welcomes to Holyrood, 
once more possessed by her legitimate sovereign ! did 
I not say we should prosper, and that you would fall into 
the hands of the Philistines if you parted from us 

“ Dear Fergus !” said Waverley, eagerly returning his 
greeting. “ It is long since I have heard a friend’s 
voice. Where is Flora ?” 

“ Safe, and a triumphant spectator of our success.” 

“ In this place ?” said Waverley. 

“ Ay, in diis city at least,” answered his friend, “ and 
you shall see her ; but first you must meet a friend whom 
you little think of, who has been frequent in his inquiries 
after you.” 

Thus saying, he dragged Waverley by the arrn out of 
the guard-chamber, and, ere he knew where he was 
conducted, Edward found himself in a presence-room 
fitted up with some attempt at royal state. 

A young man, wearing his own fair hair, distinguished 
6y the dignity of his mien and the noble expression of 
nis well-formed and regular features, advanced out of 
a circle of military gentlemen and Highland chiefs, by 
whom he was surrounded. In his easy and graceful 
manners, Waverley afterwards thought he could have 
discovered his high birth and rank, although the star on 
his breast, and the embroidered garter at his knee, had 
not appeared as its indications. 

VOL. II. 


26 


WAVERLET. 


“ Let me present to your Royal Highness,” said Fer- 
gus, bowing profoundly 

“ The descendant of one of the most ancient and loy- 
al families in England,” said the yolmg Chevalier, inter- 
rupting him. “ 1 beg your pardon for interrupting you, 
my dear Mac-Ivor, but no master of ceremonies is ne- 
cessary to present a Waverley to a Stuart.” 

I'hus saying, he extended his hand to Edward with 
the utmost courtesy, who could not, had he desired it, 
have avoided rendei’ing him the homage which seemed 
due to his rank, and was certainly the right of his birth. 
“ I am sorry to understand, Mr. Waverley, that, owing 
to circumstances which have been as yet but ill explained, 
you have suffered some restraint among ray followers in 
Perthshire, and on your march here ; but we are in such 
a situation that we hardly know our friends, and 1 am 
even at this moment* uncertain whether I can have the 
pleasure of considering ]\Ir. Waverley as among mine.” 

He then paused for an instant ; but before Edward could 
adjust a. suitable reply, or even arrange his ideas as to its 
purport, the Prince took out a paper, and then proceed- 
ed : — “ I should Indeed have no doubts upon this sub- 
ject, if I could trust to this proclamation, set forth by the 
friends of the Elector of Hanover, in which they rank 
Mr. Waverley among the nobility and gentry who are 
menanced with the pains of high-treason for loyalty to 
their legitimate sovereign. But I desire to gain no ad- 
herents save from affection and conviction ; and if Mr. 
VV^avcrley inclines to prosecute his journey to the south, 
or to join the forces of the Elector, he shall have my pass- 
port and free permission to do so ; and 1 can only regret 
that my present power will not extend to protect him 
agajnst the probable consequences of such a measure. — 
But,” continued Charles Edward, after another short 
pause, ‘‘ if Mr. Waverley should, like his ancestor, Sir 
Nigel, determine to embrace a cause which has little to 
recommend it but its justice, and follow a prince who 
throws himself upon the affections of his people to re- 
cover the throne of his ancestors> or perish in the attempt, 


WAVERLET. 


27 

I can only say, that among these nobles and gentlemen 
he will find worthy associates in a gallant enterprize, and 
will follow a master who may be unfortunate, but, 1 trust, 
will never be ungrateful.” 

The politic chieftain of the race of Ivor knew his ad- 
vantage in introducing Waverley to this personal inter- 
view with the royal adventurer. Unaccustomed to the 
address and manners of a polished court, in which 
Charles was eminently skilful, liis words and his kindness 
penetrated the heart of onr hero, and easily outweighed 
all prudential motives. To be thus personally solicited 
for assistance by a prince, whose form and manners, as well 
as the spirit which he displayed in this singular enterprize, 
answered his ideas of a hero of romance ; to be court- 
ed by.him jn tfte ancient halls of his paternal palace, re- 
covered by the sword which he was already bending to- 
wards other conquests, gave Edward, in his own eyes, 
the dignity and importance which he had ceased to con- 
sider as liis attributes. Rejected, slandered, and threat- 
ened upon the one side* he was irresistibly attracted tc 
the cause which the prejudices of education, and the po- 
litical princi])les of his family, had already iccommend- 
ed as the most just. These thoughts rushed through 
his mind like a torrent, sweeping before them every con- 
sideration of an opposite tendency, — the time, besides, 
admitted of no deliberation, — and Waverley, kneeling to 
Charles Edward, devoted his heart and sword to the vin- 
dication of his riglits ! 

The Prince (for, although unfortunate in the faults and 
follies of his forefathers, we shall here, and elsewhere, 
give him the title due to his birth) raised Waverley from 
the ground, and embraced him with an expression of 
thanks too warm not to be genuine. He also thanked 
Fergus Mac-Ivor repeatedly for having brought him such 
an adherent, and presented Waverley to the various no- 
blemen, chieftains, and officers who were about his per- 
son, as a young gentleman of the highest hopes and pros- 
pects, in whose bold and enthusiastic avowal of his cause 
they might see an evidence of the sentiments of the 


2S 


WAVEIILET. 


English families of rank at this important crisis.'^ Indeed 
this was a point much doubted among the adherents ol 
the house of Stuart ; and as a well-founded disbelief in 
the co-operation of the English Jacobites, kept many 
Scottish men of rank from his standard, and diminished 
the courage of those who had joined it, nothing could 
be more seasonable for the Chevalier than the open de- 
claration in his favour of the representative of the house 
of Waverley-Honour, so long known as cavaliers and 
royalists. This Fergus had foreseen from the beginning. 
He really loved Waverley, because their feelings and 
projects never thwarted each other ; he hoped to see 
him united with Flora, and he rejoiced that they were 
effectually engaged in the same cause. But, as we be- 
fore hinted, he also exulted as a politiciati in beholding 
secured to his party a partizan of such consequence ; 
and he was far from being insensible to the personal im- 
poi'tance which he himself gained with the Prince, from 
having so materially assisted in making the acquisition. 

Charles Edward, on his part* seemed eager to show 
his attendants the value which he attached to his new 
adherent, by entering immediately, as in confidence, up- 
on the circumstances of his situation. “ You have been 
secluded so much from intelligence, Mr. Waverley, from 
causes of which 1 am but indistinctly informed, that 
I presume you are even yet unacquainted with the im- 
portant particulars of my present situation. You have, 
however, heard of my landing in the remote district of 
Moidart, with only seven attendants, and of the numerous 
chiefs and clans whose loyal enthusiasm at once placed a 
solitary adventurer at the head of a gallant army. You 
must also, 1 think, have learned, that the commander-in- 
chief of the Hanoverian Elector, Sir John Cope, marched 
into the Highlands at the head of a numerous and well-ap- 
pointed military force, with the intention of giving us battle, 
but that his courage failed him when we were within three 
hours* march of each other, so thatdie fairly gave us the 
slip, and marched northward to Aberdeen, leaving (he Low- 
Country open and undefended. Not to lose so favourable 


WAVI.Itl.i: Y. 


29 


an opportunity, I marched on to this metropolis, driving 
helbrc me two regiments of Itorse, Gardiner’s and Hamil- 
ton’s, who iiad threatened to cut to pieces every Highland- 
er that should venture to pass Stirling ; and while discus- 
sions were carrying forward among the magistracy and 
citizens of Edinburgh, whether they should defend them- 
selves or surrender, my good friend Lochiel, (laying his 
hand on the shoulder ol that gallant and accomplished 
chieftain) saved them the trorrble of farther delibera-kii, by 
entering the gates with five hundred Camerons. Thus far, 
therefore, we have done well ; but, in the meanwhile, 
this doughty general’s nerves being braced by the keen 
air of Aberdeen, he lias taken shipping for Dunbar, and 
I have just received certain information that he landed 
there yesterday. His purpose must unquestionably be, 
to march towards us to recover possession of the capital. 
Now there are tw’o opinions in my council of war : one, 
that being inferior probably in numbers, and certainly in 
discipline and military appointments, not to mention our 
total want of artillery, and the weakness of our cavalry, 
it will be safest to fall back towards the mountains, and 
there protract the w'ar until fresh succours arrive from 
France, and the whole body of the Highland clans shall 
have taken arms in our favour. The opposite opinion 
maintains, that a retrograde movement, in our circum- 
stances, is certain to throw utter discredit on our arms 
and undertaking ; and, far from gaining us new partizans, 
will be the means of disheartening those who have joined 
our standard. The officers who use these last arguments, 
among whom is your friend Fergus Mac-Ivor, maintain, 
that if the Highlanders are strangers to the usual milita- 
ry discipline of Europe, the soldiers whom they are to 
encounter are no less strangers to their peculiar and for- 
midable mode of attack ; that the^ attachment and cour- 
age of the chiefs and gentlemen are notto be doubted ; 
and that as they will be in the midst of the enemy, their 
clansmen will as surely follow them ; in fine, that having 
drawn the sword, we should throw away the scabbard, 

VOL. II. 


30 


WAVERJ.EY. 


and trust our cause to battle and to tlie God of battles. 
Will ]\Ir. Waverley favour us with his opinion in these 
arduous circumstances ?” 

Waverley coloured high betwixt pleasure and modes- 
ty at the distinction implied in this question, and answer- 
ed, with equal spirit and readiness, that he could not 
venture to offer an opinion as derived from military skill, 
but that the counsel would be far the most acceptable to 
him which should first afford him an opportunity to evince 
his zeal in his Royal Highness’s service. 

“ Spoken like a Waverley!” answered Charles Ed- 
ward ; “ and that you may hold a rank in some degree 
corresponding to your name, allow me, instead of the 
captain’s commission which you have lost, to offer you 
the brevet rank of major in my service, with the advan- 
tage of acting as one of my aids-de-camp until you can 
be attached to a regiment, of which I hope several will 
be speedily embodied.” 

“ Your Royal Highness will forgive me,” answered 
Waverley, (for his recollection turned to Balmawhapple 
and his scanty troop,) “ if I decline accepting any rank 
until the time and place where I may have interest 
enough to raise a sufficient body of men to make my 
command useful to your Royal Highness’s service. In 
the meanwhile, I hope for your permission to serve as a 
volunteer under my friend Fergus Mac-Ivor.” 

“ At least,” said the Prince, who was obviously pleas- 
ed with this proposal, “ allow me the pleasure of arming 
you after the Highland fashion.” With these words, he 
unbuckled the broad-sword, which he wpre, the belt of- 
which was plated with silver, and the steel basket-hilt 
richly and curiously inlaid. “ The blade,” said the 
Prince, “ is a genuine Andrea Ferrara, it has been a 
sort of heir-loom in our family ; but I am convinced 1 
put it into better hands than my own, and will add to it 
pistols of the same workmanship. — Colonel Mac-Ivor, 
you must have much to say to your friend ; I will detain 
you no longer from your private conversation, but re- 
member,we expect you both to attend us in the evening. 


WAVERLEY. 


31 


[t may be perhaps the last night we may enjoy in these 
halls, and as we go to the field with a clear conscience, 
we will spend the eve of battle merrily.” 

Thus licensed, the Chief and Waverley left the pres- 
ence-chamber. 


CHAPTER V. 

The Mystery begins to he cleared up, 

“ How do you like him was Fergus’s first question, 
as they descended the large stone stair-case. 

“ A prince to live and die under, ” Avas Waverley’s 
enthusiastic answer. 

“I knew you would think so when you saw him, and 
I intended you should have met earlier, but was pre- 
vented by your sprain. And yet he has his foibles, or 
father he has difficult cards to play, and his Irish officers^' 
who are much about him, are but sorry advisers, — they 
cannot discriminate among the numerous pretensions 
that are set up. Would you think it — I have been oblig- 
ed for the present to suppress an Earl’s patent, granted 
for services rendered ten years ago, for fear of exciting 

the jealousy, forsooth, of C and M . But you 

were very right, Edward, to refuse the situation of aid- 
de-camp. There are two vacant, indeed, but Clanron- 
ald and Lochiel, and almost all of us, have requested one 
for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders and 
the Irish party are equally desirous to have the other for 
the Master of F . Now, if either of these candi- 

dates were to be superseded in your favour, you would 
make enemies. And then I am surprised that the 
Prince should have offered you a majority, when he 
know’s very well that nothing short of lieutenant-colonel 
will satisfy others, wdio cannot bring one hundred and 
fifty men to the field. ‘But patience, cousin, and shufile 


32 


WAVE RLE Y. 


the cards !’ It is all very well for the present, and we 
must have you properly equipped for the evening in your 
new costume ; for, to say truth, your outward man is 
scarce fit for a court.’’ 

“ Why,” said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress, ‘‘ my 
shooting jacket has seen service since we parted ; but that 
probably, you, my friend, know as well or better than I.” 

“ You do my second-sight too much honour,” said Fer- 
gus. “ We were so busy, first with the scheme of giving 
battle to Cope, and afterward with our operations in the 
Lowlands, that I could only give general directions to such 
of our people as were left in Perthshire to respect and 
protect you, should you come in their way. But let me 
hear the full story of your adventures, for they have 
reached us in a very partial and mutilated manner.” 

Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with 
''which the reader is already acquainted, to which Fergus 
listened with great attention. By this time they had reach- 
ed the door of his quarters, which he had taken up in a 
small paved court, retiring from the street called the Can- 
ongate, at the house of a buxom wddow of forty, who seem- 
ed to smile very graciously upon the handsome young 
Chief, she being a person with whom good looks and good 
humour were sure to secure an interest, whatever might 
be the party’s political opinions. Here Callum Beg re- 
ceived them with a smile of recognition. “ Callym,” 
said the Chief, “ call Shemiis an Snachad,” (James of 
the Needle.) This was the hereditary tailor of Vich 
Ian Vohr. Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to wear the cath 
datli, (battle colour, or tartan ;) his trews must be ready 
in four hourb. You know the measure of a well-made 
man : two double nails to the small of the leg” — 

Eleven from hauncb to heel, seven round the waist 
’ — I give your honour leave to hang Shemus, if there’s 
a pair of sheers in the Highlands that has a baulder sneck 
than hers ain at the cumadh an truaisj^^ (shape of the 
trews.) , 

“ Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan, and sash,” contin- 
ued the Chieftain, and a blue bonnet of the Prince’s 


WAVERLET. 


33 


pattern, at Mr. Monat’s in the Cranies. My short green 
coat, with silver la(*e and silver buttons, will ht him exact- 
ly, and 1 have never wogi it. Tell Ensign Maccombich 
to pick out a handsome target from among mine. , I'he 
Prince has given Mr. Waverley broadsword and pistols,! 
will furnish him with a dirk and purse ; add but a pair of 
low-heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edwai*ft, (turning to 
him) you will be a complete son of Ivor.” 

These necessary directions given, the Chieftain re- 
sumed the subject of Waverley’s adventures. “ It is 
plain,’* he said, “ that you have been in the custody of 
Donald Bean Lean. You must know that when I march- 
ed away my clan to join the Prince, I laid my injunc- 
tions on that worthy member of society to perform a 
certain piece of service, which done, he was to join me 
with all the force he could muster. But instead of doing 
so, the gentleman, finding the coast clear, thought it better 
to make war on his own account, and has scoured the 
country, plundering, I believe, both friend and foe, under 
pretence of levying black-mail, sometimes as if by my 
authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his consum- 
mate impudence) in his own great name ! Upon my 
honour, if -I live to see the cairn of Benraore again, I 
shall be tempted to hang that fellow ! I recognize 
his hand particularly in the mode of your rescue from 
that canting rascal Gilfillan, and I have little doubt that 
Donald himself played the part of the pedlar on that 
occasion ; but how he should not have plundered you, 
or put you to ransom, or availed himself in some way or 
other of your captivity for his own advantage, passes my 
iudgrnent.” 

“ When, and how did you hear the intelligence of my 
confinement?” asked Waverley. 

‘‘ The Prince himself told me,” said Fergus, “ and 
inquired very minutely into your history. He then men- 
tioned your being at that moment in the power of one O' 
our northern parties — you know I could not ask him U- 
explain particulars — and requested my opinion aboui 
disposing of you. I recommended that you should be 


34 


WAVE RLE Y. 


brought here as a prisoner, because I did not wish to 
prejudice you farther with the English government, in 
case you pursued your purpose of going southward. I 
knew nothing, you must recollect, of the charge brought 
against you of aiding and abetting high treason, which, I 
presume, had some share in changing your original plan. 
That sullen,«good-for-nothing brute, Balmawhapple, was 
sent to escort you from Doune, with what he calls his 
troop of horse. As to his behaviour, in addition to his 
natural antipathy to every thing that resembles a gentle- 
man, I presume his adventure with Bradwardine rankles 
ii) his recollection, the rather that I dare say his mode 
of telling that story contributed to the evil reports which 
reached your quondam regiment.” 

“ Very likely,” said Waverley 5 “ but now surely, 
my dear Fergus, you may find time to tell me something 
of Flora.” 

“ Why,” replied Fergus, “I can only tell you that 
she is well, and residing for the present with a relation 
in this city. I thought it better she should come here, as 
since our success a good many ladies of rank attend our 
military court ; and I assure you, that there is a sort of 
consequence annexed to the near relative of such a per- 
son as Flora Mac-lvor, and where there is such a justling 
of claims and requests, a man must use every fair means 
to enhance his importance.” 

There was something in this last sentence which 
grated on Waverley’s feelings. He could not bear that 
Flora should be considered as conducing to her brother’s 
preferment, by the admiration which she must unques- 
tionably attract ; and although it was in strict corres- 
pondence with many points of Fergus’s character, it 
shocked him as selfish, and unworthy of his sister’s high 
mind and his own independent pride. Fergus, to whom 
such manoeuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at 
the French court, did not observe the unfavourable im- 
pression which he had unwarily made upon his friend’s 
mind, and concluded by saying, “ that they coukl hard- 
ly see Flora before the evening, when she would be at 


WAVERLEY. 


35 


the concert and ball, with which the Prince’s parly were 
to be entertained. She and 1 had a quarrel about her 
not appearing to take leave of you. 1 am unwilling to 
renew it, by soliciting her to receive you this morning ; 
and perhaps my doing so might not only be ineffectual, 
but prevent your meeting this evening.” 

While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, 
before the windows of the parlour, a well-known voice. 
“ I aver to you, my worthy friend,” said the speaker, 
“ that it is a total dereliction of military discipline ; and 
were you not as it were a iyro^ your purpose would de- 
serve strong reprobation. For a prisoner of war is on no 
account to be coerced with fetters, or debinded in ergas^ 
tulOf as would have been the case had you put this gen- 
tleman into the pit of the peel-house at Balrnawhapple. 
I grant, indeed, that such a pTisoner ma^or security be 
coerced in carccre, that is, in a public pmon.” 

riie growling voice of Balrnawhapple was heard as tak- 
ing leave in disj)Ieasure, but the word, ‘ land-louper,’ alone 
was distinctly audible. He liad disappeared before Waver- 
ley reached the house, in order,to greet the worthy Baron 
ol' Bradwardine. The uniform in which he was now attired, 
namely, a blue coat, with gold lace, a scarlet waistcoat and 
breeches, and immense jack-boots, seemed to have added 
fresh stiffness and rigidity to his tall, jyerpendicular figure; 
and the consciousness of military command and authority 
h id increased, in the same proportion, the self-importance 
of his demeanour, and dogmatism of his conversation. 

He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and 
expressed immediate anxiety to hear an explanation of 
the circumstances attending the loss of his commission 
m Gardiner’s dragoons ; “ not,” he said, “ that he had the 
least apprehension of his young friend having done aught 
which could merit such ungenerous treatment as he had 
received from government, but because it was right and 
seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should be, in 
point of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute 
all calumnies against the heir of Waverley-Honour 
whom he' had so much right to regard as his own son.” 


WAVE RLE Y. 


SQ 


t'ergiis Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went 
hastily over the circumstances of Waverley’s story, ana 
concluded with the flattering reception he had met from 
the young Clievalier. ' The Baron listened in silence, and 
at the conclusion shook Waverley heartily by the hand, 
and congratulated him upon entering the service of his 
lawful Prince. “For,” continued he, “ although it has 
been justly held in all nations a matter of scandal and 
dishonour to infringe the sacramentum militare, and that 
whether it was taken by each soldier singly, whilk the 
Romans denominated per conjuj'ationem, or by one sol- 
dier in name of the rest ; yet no one ever doubted that 
the allegiance so sworn was discharged by the dimissio, 
or discharging of r soldier, whose case would be as hard 
as that of colliers, salters, and other adscripti glebce, or 
slaves of the soil, were itto*be accounted otherwise. This 
is something mce the brocard expressed by the learned 
Sanchez in his work De jure-jurando, which you have 
questionless consulted upon this occasion. As for those 
who have calumniated you by leasing-making, I protest to 
Heaven I think they have justly incurred the penally of 
the Memnonia lex, also called Lex Rhemnia, which is 
prelected upon by Tullius in his oration In Verrem. 1 
should have deemed, how^ever, Mr. Waverley, that before 
destining yourself to any special service in the army of 
the Prince, ye might have inquired what rank the old 
Bradwardine held there, and whether he would not have 
been peculiarly happy to have had your services in the 
regiment of horse which he is now about to levy.”^ 

Edward eluded this reproach by pleading the necessi- 
ty of giving an immediate answer to the Prince’s prop(»- 
sal, and his uncertainty at the moment whether his friend 
the Baron was with the army, or engaged upon service 
elsewhere. 

This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry 
after Miss Bradwardine, and was informed she had come 
to Edinburgh with Flora Mac-lvor, under guard of a 
party of the Chieftain’s men. This step was indeed 
necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a vpry unpleas- 


WAVE RLE Y. 


37 


ant, and even dangerous place of residence for an unpro- 
tected young lady, on account of its vicinity to the High- 
lands, and also to one or two large villages, which, from 
aversion as nnich to the Caterans as zeal for preshylery, 
had declared themselves on the side of governmtiit, and 
formed irregular bodies of partizans, who had frequent 
skirmishes with the mountaineers, and sometimes atiack- 
ed the houses of the Jacobite gentry in the braes, or 
frontier between the mountain and plain. 

“ 1 would propose to you,” continued the Baron, 
“ to walk as far as my quarters in the Luckenbooths, and 
to admire in your passage the High Street, whilk is be- 
yond a shadow of dubitation, finer than any street, 
whether in London or Paris. But Rose, poor thing, is 
sorely discomposed with the firing of the Castle, though 
I have proved to her from Blondel and Coeliorn, that it 
is impossible a bullet can reach these buildings ; and, 
besides, I have it in charge from his Royal Highness to 
go to the camp, or leaguer of our army, to see that the 
men do conclamare vasa, that is, truss up their bag and 
baggage for to-morrow’s march.” 

“ That will be easily done by most of us,” said ]\Iac- 
Ivor, laughing. 

“ Craving your pardon. Colonel Mac-Ivor, noi quite 
so easily as ye seem to opine. I grant most of your 
folk left the Highlands, expedited as it were, anti free 
from the incumbrance of baggage, but it is unspeakable 
the quantity of useless sprechery which they have col- 
lected on their march. I saw one fellow of yours (crav- 
ing vour pardon once more) with a pier-glass upon his 
back.” 

“Ay,” said Fergus, still in good humour, “he would 
have told you, if you had questioned him, a ganging 
foot is aye getting . — But come, my dear Baron, you 
know as w'ell as I, that a .hundred Uhlans, or a single 
troop of Schmirschitz’s Pandours, would make more 
havock in a country than the knight of the mirror uid all 
the rest qf our clans put together.” 

16 VOL, H, 


38 


WAVEllLEY. 


“ And that is very true likewise,’’ replied the Bai-on 
“ they are, as the heathen author sixysj ferociores in as* 
oeciu, mitiores in actu, of a horrid and grim visage, but 
more benign in demeanour than their physiognomy or 
aspect might infer. — But I stand here talking to you two 
youngsters, when I should be in the King’s Park.” 

“ But you will dine with Waverley and me on your 
return ^ I assure you, Baron, though I can live like a 
Highlander when needs must, I remember my Paris ed- 
ucation, and understand j)erfectly faire la meilleure 
chereJ'^ 

“ And wha the de’il doubts it,” quoth the Baron, 
laughing, “ when ye bring only the cookery, and the 
glide toun must furnish the materials ^ — Wcel, I have 
some business in the toun too : But PH join you at three, 
if the vivers can tarry so long.” So saying, he took 
leave of his friends, and went to look after the charge 
which had been assigned him. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A Soldier’* s Dinner. 

James of the Needle was a man of his word, when 
whisky was no party to the contract ; and upon this oc- 
casion Callum Beg, who still thought himself in Waver- 
Jey’s debt, since he had declined accepting compensation 
at the expense of mine Host of the Candlestick’s per- 
son, took the opportunity of discharging the obligation, 
by mounting guard over the hereditary tailor of Sliochd 
nan Ivor ; and, as he expressed himself, “ targed him 
tightly” till the finishing of the job. To rid himself of 
this restraint, Shemus’s needle flew through the tartan 
like lightning ; and as the artist kopt chanting some 
dreadful skirmish of Fin Macoul, he accomplished at 


AVAVERLET. 


30 


least three stitches to the death of every hero. The 
dress was, therefore, soon ready, for the short coa fiued 
the wearer, and the rest of the apparel required little ad- 
justment. 

Our hero having now fairly assumed the “ garb of old 
Gaul,” well calculated as it was to give an appearance of 
strength to a figure, which, though tall and well-made, 
was rather elegant than robust, I hope my fair readers 
will excuse him if he looked at himself in the mirror 
more than once, and could not help acknowledging that 
the reflection seemed that of a very handsome young 
fellow. In fact, there was no disguising it. His light- 
brown hair, — for he wore no periwig, notwithstanding 
the universal fashion of the time, — became the boniiet 
which surmounted it. His person promised firmness and 
agility, to which the ample folds of the tartan added an 
air of dignity. His blue eye seemed of that kind. 

Which melted in love, and which kindled in war ; 

and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect 
of want of habitual intercourse with the world, gave in- 
terest to his features, without injuring their grace or in- 
telligence. 

‘ He’s a pratty man — a very pratty man,” said Evan 
Dhu (now Ensign Maccombich) to Fergus’s buxom 
landlady. 

“ He’s vera weel,” said the Widow Flockhart, “ but 
no naething sae weel-far’d as your colonel, ensign.” 

“ I wasna comparing them,” quoth Evan, “ nor was 
I speaking about his being weel-favoured ; but only that 
Mr. Waverley looks clean-made and deliver, and like a 
proper lad o’ his quarters, that will not cry barley in a 
brulzie. And, indeed, he’s gleg aneuch at the broad- 
sword and target. I hae played wi’ him mysel at Glcn- 
naquoich, and sae has Vich Ian Vohr, often of a Sunday 
afternoon.” 

“ Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich,” said the 
alarmed presbyterfan ; I’m sure the Colonel wad never 
do the like o’ that !” 


40 


AVAVKllLKT. 


‘‘ Hout ! bout ! Mrs. Flockbart,” replied the Ensign 
‘we’re young bliide, ye ken ; and young saints, auld de’ils.' 

“ But will ye fight wi’ Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign 
Maccornbich demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest. 

“ Troth I’se ensure him, an’ he’ll bide us, Mrs. Flock- 
hart,” replied the Gael. 

“ And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons, 
Ensign Maccornbich ?” again inquired the landlady. 

“ Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flock- 
hart, and the deevil tak the shortest nails.” 

“ And will the Colonel venture on the bagganets him- 
sel ?” 

“Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart ; the very first man 
will he be, by Saint Phedar.” 

“ Merciful goodness ! and if he’s killed amang th« 
red-coats.'” exclaimed the soft-hearted widow. 

“ Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, 1 ken 
ane that will no be living to weep for him. But we maun 
a’ live the day, and have our dinner ; and there’s Vich Ian 
Vohr has packed his dorlach, and Mr. Waverley’s wea- 
ried wi’ majoring yonder afore the muckle pier-glass, and 
that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o’ Bradwardine, 
that shot young Ronald of Ballankeiroch, he’s coming 
down the close wi’ that drogfiling coghling baillie body 
they ca’ Macwhupple, just like the Laird o’ Kittlegab’s 
French cook, wi’ his turnspit doggie trindling ahint him, 
and I am as hungry as a gled, my bonny dow ; sae bid 
Kate set on the broo’, and do ye put on your pinners, for 
ye ken Vich Ian Vohr winna sit down till ye be at the 
head o’ the table -; — and dinna forget the pint bottle o’ 
brandy, my woman.” 

This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling 
in her weeds like the sun through a mist, took the head 
of the table, thinking within herself, perhaps, that she cared 
not how long the rebellion lasted, that brought her into 
company so much above her usual associates. She was 
supported by Waverley and the Baron, with the advan- 
tage of the Chieftain vis-a-vis. The men of peace and 
of war, that is, Baillie Macwheeble and Ensign Maccom- 


WAVERLEY. 


♦ 1 


bich, after many profound conges to their supeiiois and 
each other, took their places on each side of the Chief- 
tain. Their fare was excellent, time, place, and cir- 
cumstances considered, and Fergus’s spirits were ex- 
travagantly high. Regardless of danger, and sanguine 
from temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in imagination 
all his prospects crowned with success, and was totally 
indifferent to the probable alternative of a soldier’s 
grave. The Baron apologized slightly for bringing 
Macwheeble. They had been providing, he said, for 
the expenses of the campaign. “ And, by my faith,” 
said the old man, “ as I think this will be my last, so I 
just end where I began — I hae evermore found the sin- 
ews of war, as a learned author calls the caisse militaire, 
mair difficult to come by than either its flesh, blood, or 
bones.” 

“ What ! have you raised our only efficient body of 
cavalry, and got ye none of the louis-d’ors out of the 
doutelle to help you 

“ No, Glennaquoich ; cleverer fellows have been be- 
fore me.” 

“ That’s a scandal,” said the young Highlander ; 
“ but you will share what is left of my subsidy : It will 
save you an anxious thought to-night, and will be all one 
to-morrow, for we shall all be provided for one wa/ or 
other before the sun sets.” 

Waverley, blushing deeply, but with great earnestness, 
pressed the same request. “ I thank ye baith, my good 
lads,” said the Baron, “ but I will not infringe upon 
your peculium. Baillie Macwheeble has provided the 
sum which is necessary.” 

Here the Baillie shifted, and fidgetted about in his 
seat, and appeared extremely uneasy. At length, after 
several preliminary hems, and much tautological expres- 
sion of ins devotion to his honour’s service, by night or 
day, living or dead, he began to insinuate, “ that the 
Banks had removed a’ their ready cash into the Castle ; 
—that, nae doubt, Sandie Goldie, the silversmith , would 

VOL. IL 


42 


WAVE RLE T. 


do mickle for his honour ; but there was little time to 
get the wadset made out ; and, doubtless, if his honour, 
Glennaquoich,or Mr. Wauverley, could accommodate” — 

“ Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir,” said the 
Baron, in a tone which rendered Macwheeble mute, 
‘‘ but proceed as we accorded before dinner, if it be 
your wish to remain in my service.” 

To this peremptory order, the Baillie, though he felt 
as if condemned to suffer a transfusion of blood from 
his own veins into those of the Baron, did not presume 
to make any reply. After fidgetting a little while longer, 
however, he addressed himself to Glennaquoich, and told 
him, if his honour had mair ready siller than was suffi- 
cient for his occasions in the field, he could put it out at 
use for his honour in safe hands, and at great profit, at 
this time. At this proposal, Fergus laughed heartily, 
and answered, when he had recovered his breath, — 
“ Many thanks, Baillie ; but you must know it is a gen- 
eral custom among us soldiers to make our landlady our 
banker. — Here, Mrs. Flockhart,” said he, taking four or 
five broad pieces out of a well-filled purse, and tossing 
the purse itself, with its remaining contents, into her 
apron, ‘‘ these will serve my occasions ; do you take the 
rest : Be my banker if I live, and my executor if I 
die ; but take care to give something to the Highland 
cailliachs^that shall cry the coronach loudest for the last 
Vich Ian Vohr.” 

“ It is the testamentum militaire,^^ quoth the Baron, 

‘ whilk, amang the Romans, was privilegiate to be nun- 
cupative.” But the soft heart of Mrs. Flockhart was 
melted within her at the Chieftain’s speech ; she set up 
a lamentable blubbering, and positively refused to touch 
the bequest, which Fergus was therefore obliged to re- 
sume. “ VVell, then,” said the Chief, “ if I fall, it will 
go to the grenadier that knocks my brains out, and I 
shall take care he works hard for it.” 

Baillie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his 
oar, for where cash was concerned, he did not willingly 
remain silent “ Perhaps he had better carry the gowd 


WAYEnLEY. 


48 


to Miss Mac-lvor, in case of mortality, or accidents of 
war. It might tak the form of a mortis causa donation 
in the young leddie’s favour, and wad cost but the scrape 
of a pen to mak it out.” 

“ The young lady,” said Fergus, “ should such an 
event happen, will have other matters to think of than 
these wretched loiiis d’ors.” 

“ True — undeniable — there’s nae doubt o’ that ; but 
your honour kens that a full sorrow”- 

“ Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hun- 
gry one ^ — True, Baillie, very true ; and 1 believe there 
may even be some who would be consoled by such a re- 
flection for the loss of the whole existing generation ; 
but there is a sorrow which knows neither hunger nor 

thirst ; and poor Flora”- He paused, and the whole 

company sympathized in his emotion. 

The Baron’s thoughts naturally reverted to the unpro- 
tected state of his daughter, and the big tear came to the 
veteran’s eye. “If I fall, Macwheeble, you have all my 
papers, and know all rny^ affairs ; be just to Rose.” 

The Baillie was a man of earthly mould after all, a 
good deal of dirt and dross about him undoubtedly, but 
some kindly and just feelings he had, especially where 
the Baron or his young mistress were concerned. He 
set up a lamentable howl, “ If that doleful day should 
come, while Duncan Macwheeble had a boddle, it should 
be Miss Rose’s. He wad scroll for a plack the ^heet 
or she ken’d what it was to^^want ; if indeed a’ the bon- 
nie baronie o’ Bradwardine and Tully^-Veolan, with the 
fortalice and manor-place thereof (he kept sobbing and 
whining at every pause) tofts, crofts, mosses, muirs — 
outfield, infield, — buildings — orchards — dove-cots — wdth 
the fight of net and coble in the water and loch of 
Veolan — tiends, parsonage and vicarage — annexis, con- ,, 
nexis — rights of pasturage — fuel, feal, and divot — parts 
pendicles, and pertinents whatsoever — (here he had re- 
course to the end of his long cravat to wipe his eyes, which 
overflowed, in -oite of him, at the ideas which this tech- 
nical jargon conjured up) — all as more fully descril)ed 


44 


WAVERJ.EY. 


in the proper evidents and titles ihcreof-— and lying with- 
in the parish of Bradwardine and the shire ol I'^erih- — if, 
as afor.esaid, they'nnist a’ j>ass from my master’s cJuld to 
Inch-Grabbii, wha’s a whig and a Hanoverian, and be 
managed by ins doer, Jamie Howie, wlia’s no fit to be 
a biriieinan, let be a baillie” 

The beginning of this lamentation really had something 
affecting, but the conclusion rendered laughter irresistible. 
“ Never mind, Baillie,” said Ensign IVlaccombich, “ for 
the gude auld times of rugging and riving (pulling and 
tearing) are come back again, an’ Sncckus Mac-Snackus, 
(meaning, probably, annexis, connexis,) and a’ the rest of 
your friends, maun gie place to the langest claymore.” 

“ And that claymore shall be ours, Baillie,” said the 
Chieftain, who saw that Macwheeble looked very blank 
at this intimation. 

•• We’ll give them the metal our mountain aflbrds, 

Liillbulero, bullen a la, 

And in place of broad-pieces, we’ll pay with broad-swords, 

Lero, lero, &c. 

With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score, 
Lillibulero, &c. 

For the man that’s thus paid will crave payment no more, 

Lero, lero, Scc.D 

“ But come, Baillie, be not cast down ; drink your 
wine with a joyous heart ; the Baron shall return safe 
and victorious to Tully-Veolan, and unite Killancureit’s 
lairdship wdth his oum, since the cowardly half-bred swine 
will not turn out for the Prince like a gentleman.” 

‘‘ To be sure, they lie maist ewest,”i^said the Baillie, 
wiping his eyes, “ and should naturally fa’ under the 
same factory.” 

And 1,” proceeded the Chieftain, “ shall take care 
of myself too 5 for you must know, I have to complete 
a good wmrk here, by bringing ]\Irs. Flockhart into the 
bosom of the Catholic church, or at least half way, and 
that is to your episcopal meeting-house. O Baron ! if 
you heard her fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate and 


WAVE RLE Y» 


45 


Matty in the morning, you, who understand music, would 
tremble at the idea of hearing her shriek in the psalmo- 
dy of Haddo’s Hole.” 

“ Lord forgie you, Colonel, how ye rin on ! but 1 hope 
your honours will tak tea before ye gang to the palace, 
and I maun gang and mak it for you.” 

So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their 
own conversation, which, as might be supposed, turned 
chiefly upon the approaching events of the campaign. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The Ball. 

Ensign Maccombich having gone to the Highland 
camp upon duty, and Baillie Macwheeble having retired 
to digest his dinner, and Evan Dhu’s intimation of mar- 
tial law, in some blind change-house, Waverley, with the 
Baron and the Chieftain proceeded to Holyrood-house. 
The two last were in full tide of spirits, and the Baron 
rallied in his way our hero upon the handsome figure 
which his new dress displayed to advantage. “ If you 
have any design upon the heart of a bonny Scotch lassie, 
I would premonish you, when you address her to re- 
member and quote the words of Virgilius : — 


I Nunc insanus amor durl me Martis in armis, 

Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostcs 


Whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the Clan 
Donnochy, (unless the claims of Lude ought to be pre* 
ferrei primo loco,) has thus elegantly rendered : 

" For cruel love has garland low' my leg, 

And clad my hurdies in a phiUibeg." 


46 


WAVERLEY. 


Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk 1 
approve maist of the twa, as mair ancient and seemly.” 
“ Or rather,” said Fergus, “ hear my song : 

' She wadna liae a Lowland laird, 

Nor be an English lady ; 

But she's away with Duncan Grwme, 

And he’s rowed her in his plaidy,' ” 


By this time they reached the palace of Holyrood, 
and were announced respectively as they entered the 
apartments. 

It is but too well known how many gentlemen of rank, 
education, and fortune, took a concern in the ill-fated 
and desperate undertaking of 1745. The ladies also of 
Scotland very generally espoused the cause of the gal- 
lant and handsome young Prince, who threw himself 
upon the mercy of his countrymen, rather like a hero of 
romance than a calculating politician. It is not iher-efore 
to be wondered that Edward, who had spent the greater 
part of his life in the solemn seclusion of Waverley- 
Honour, should have been dazzled at the liveliness and 
elegance of the scene now exhibited in the long-desert- 
ed halls of the Scottish palace. The accompaniments, 
indeed, fell short of splendour, being such as the hurry 
and confusion of the time admitted ; still, however, 
the general effect was striking, and, the rank of the com- 
pany considered, might well be called brilliant. 

It was not long before the lover’s eye discovered the 
object of his attachment. Flora Mac-Ivor was in the 
act of returning to her seat, near the top of the room, 
with Rose Bradwardine by her side. Among much 
elegance and beauty, they had attracted a great degree 
of the public attention, being certainly two of the hand- 
somest women present. The Prince took much notice 
of both, particularly of Flora, with whom he danced, a 
preference which she probably owed to her foreign ed- 
ucation, and command of the French and Italian lan- 
guages. 


WAVERLEY. 


47 


When the bustle attending the conclusion of the dance 
permitted, Edward, almost intuitively, followed Fergus 
to the place where Miss Mac-Ivor was seated. Tlie 
sensation of hope, with which he had nursed his affection 
in absence of the beloved object, seemed to vanish in 
her presence, and, like one striving to recover the par- 
ticulars of a forgotten dream, he would have given the 
world at that moment to have recollected the grounds 
on which he had founded expectations which now seem- 
ed so delusive. He accompanied Fergus with downcast 
eyes, tingling ears, and the feelings of a criminal, who, 
while the melancholy cart moves slowly through the crowds 
that have assembled to behold his execution, receives no 
clear sensation either from the noise which fills his ears, 
or the tumult on which he casts his wandering look. 

Flora seemed a little — a very little — affected and dis- 
composed at his approach. “ I bring you an adopted 
son of Ivor,” said Fergus. 

“ And 1 receive him as a second brother,” replied 
Flora. 

There was a slight emphasis on the word, which would 
have escaped every ear but one that was feverish 
with apprehension. It was however distinctly marked, 
and, combined with her whole tone and manner, plainly 
intimated, “ I will never think of Mr. Waverley as a 
more intimate connexion.” Edward stopped, bowed, 
and looked at Fergus, who bit his lip, a movement of 
anger, which proved that he also had put a sinister inter- 
pretation on the reception which his sister had given 
his friend. “ This, then, is an end of my day-dream !” 
Such was Waverley’s first thought, and it was so ex- 
quisitely painful as to banish from his cheek every drop 
of blood. 

“ Good God !” said Rose Bradwardine, “ he has not 
yet recovered !” 

These words, which she uttered with great emotion, 
were overheard by the Chevalier himself, who stepped 
hastily forward, and, taking Waverley by the hand, in- 
quired kindly after his health, and added, that he wished 

- 


4b 


w A vKurr.v. 


to speak with him. By a strong and sodden effort, which 
the circumstances rendered indispensable, Waverley re- 
covered himself so I'ar as to follow the Chevalier in si- 
lence to a recess in the apartment. 

Here the Prince detained him some time, asking 
various questions about the great lory and catholic 1am- 
ilies of England, their connexions, their influence, and 
the state of their affections towards the house of Stuart. 
To these queries Edward could not at any time have 
given more than general answers, and it may be sup- 
posed that, in the present state of his feelings, his re- 
sponses were indistinct even to confusion. The Chevalier 
smiled once or twice at the incongruity of his replies, 
but continued the same style of conversation, although 
he found himself obliged to occupy the principal share 
of it, until he perceived that Waverley had recovered his 
presence of mind. It is probable that this long audience 
was partly meant to further the idea which the Prince 
desired should be entertained among his followers, that 
Waverley was a character of political influence. But 
it appeared’, from his concluding expressions,that he had 
a different and good-natured motive, personal to our liero, 
for prolonging the conference." “ I cannot resist the 
temptation,” he said, “ of boasting of my own discre.- 
tion as a lady’s confidant. You see, Mr. Waverley, that 
1 know all, and I assure you I am deeply interested in 
the affair. But, my good young friend, you must put a 
more severe restraint upon your feelings. There are 
many here whose eyes can see as clearly as mine, but the 
prudence of whose longues may not be equally trusted.” 

So saying, he turned easily away, and joined a circle 
of officers at a few paces distance, leaving Waverley to 
meditate upon his parting expression, which, though not 
intelligible to him in its whole purport, was sufficiently 
so in the caution which the last word recommended. 
Making therefore an effort to show himself worthy of the 
interest which his new master had expressed, by instant 
obedience to his recommendation, he walked up to the 
spot where Flora and Miss Bradwardine were still scat- 


WAVERLEY. 


49 


ed, and having made his compliments to the latter, he 
succeeded, even beyond his own expectation, in entering 
into conversation upon general topics. 

If, my dear reader, ll)ou hast ever happened to take 

post-horses at , or at , (one at least of which 

blanks, or more probably both, you will be able to fill 
up from an inn near your own residence,) you must have 
observed, and doubtless with sympathetic pain, the re* 
luctant agony with' which , the poor jades at first apply 
their galled necks to the collars of the harness. But 
when the irresistible arguments of the post-boy have pre- 
vailed upon them to proceed a mile or two, they will 
become callous to the first sensation ; rnd being warm 
in the harness, as the said post-boy may term it, proceed 
as if their withers were altogether unwrung. This simile 
so much corresponds with the state of Waverley’s feel- 
ings in the course of this memorable evening, that I pre- 
fer it (especially as bei^g, I trust, wholly original) to any 
more splendid illustration, with which Byshe’s Art of 
Poetry might supply me. 

Exertion, like virtue, is its own reward ; and our hero 
had, moreover, other stimulating motives for persevering 
in a display of affected camposure and indifference to 
Flora’s obvious unkindness. Pride, which supplies its 
caustic as a useful, though severe remedy for the wounds 
of affection, came rapidly to his aid. Distinguished by 
the favour of a Prince, destined, he had room to hope, 
to play a conspicuous part in the revolution which await- 
ed a mighty kingdom; excelling probably in mental ac- 
quirements, and equalling at least, in personal accom- 
plishments, most of the noble and distinguished personti 
with whom he was now ranked ; young, wealthy, and high - 
born, — could he, or ought he, to droop beneath the frown 
of a capricious beauty ^ 

O njTtiph, unrelenting and cold as tliou art, 

My bosom is proud as thine own.” 


VOL II. 


50 


WAVERLEY. 


With the feeling expressed in these beautiful lines (which 
however were not then written,yWaveriey determined 
upon convincing Flora that he was not to be depressed 
by a rejection, in which his vanity whispered that perhaps 
she did her own prospects as much injustice as his. And, 
to aid this change of feeling, there lurked the secret and 
unacknowledged hope, that she might learn to prize his 
affection more highly, when she did not conceive it to be 
altogether within her own choice to attract or repulse it. 
There was a mystic tone of encouragement, also, in the 
Chevalier’s words, though he feared they only referred 
to the wishes of Fergus in favour of a union between 
him and his sister. But the whole circumstances of 
time, place, and incident, combined at once to awaken his 
imagination, and to call upon him for a manly and deci- 
sive tone of conduct, leaving to fate to dispose of the 
issue. Should he appear to be the only one sad and 
disheartened on the eve of batjle, how greedily would 
the tale be commented upon by the slander which had 
been already but too busy with his fame ? Never, never, 
he internally resolved, shall my unprovoked enemies 
possess such an adv^antage over my reputation. 

Under the influence of these mixed sensations, and 
cheered at times by a smile of intelligence and approba- 
tion from the Prince as he passed the group, Waverley 
exerted his powers of fancy, animation, and eloquence, 
and attracted the general admiration of the company. 
The conversation gradually assumed the tone best quali- 
fied for the display of his talents and acquisitions. The 
gaiety of the evening was exalted in character, rather 
than checked, by the approaching dangers of the morrow. 
All nerves were strung for the future, and prepared to 
enjoy the present. This mood of mind is highly favour- 
able for the exercise of the powers of imagination, for 
poetry, and for “that eloquence which is allied to poetiy, 
VVaverley, as we have elsewhere observed, possessed at 
times a wonderful flow of rhetoric ; and on the present 
occasion, he touched more than once the higher notes 
of feeling, and then again ran off in a wild voluntary of 


WAYERLEY. 


5J 

fanciful mirth. He was supported and excited by kin- 
dred spirits, who felt the same impulse of mood and 
time ; and even those of more cold and calculating habits 
were hurried along by the torrent. Many ladies declin- 
ed the dance, which still went forward, and, under vari- 
ous p“<^tences, joined the party to which the ‘‘ handsome 
young Englishman” seemed to have attached himself. 
He was presented to several of the first rank, and his 
manners, which for the present were altogether free from 
the bashful restraint by which, in a moment of less exci- 
tation, they were usually clouded, gave universal delight. 

Flora Mac-Ivor appeared to be the only female pres- 
ent who regarded him with a degree of coldness and 
reserve ; yet even she could not suppress a sort of won- 
der at talents, which, in the course of their acquaintance, 
she had never seen displayed with equal brilliancy and 
impr-essive effect. I do not know whether she might not 
feel a momentary regret at having taken so decisive a 
resolution upon the addresses of a lover, who seemed 
fitted so well to fill a high place in the highest stations 
of society. ^Certainly she had hitherto accounted among 
the incurable deficiencies of Edward’s disposition, the 
mauvaise honte, which, as she had been educated in the 
first foreign circles, and was little acquainted with the 
shyness of English manners, was, in her opinion, too 
nearly related to timidity and imbecility of disposition. 
But if a passing w'ish occurred that Waverley could have 
rendered himself uniformly thus amiable and attractive, 
its influence was momentary ; for circumstances had 
arisen since they met, which rendered, in her eyes, the 
resolution she iiad formed respecting him, final and ir- 
revo(!able. 

With opposite feelings. Rose Bradw^ardine bent hei 
whole soul to listen. She felt a secret triumph at the 
public tribute paid to one, whose merit she had learned to 
prize too early and too fondly. Without a thought of 
jealousy, without a feeling of fear, pain, or doubt, and 
undisturbed by a single selfish consideration, she resign- 
ed herself to the pleasure of observing the general mur- 


52 


WAVEULEY. 


rnur of applause. When Waverley spoke, lier ear was 
exclusively filled with his voice ; when others answered, 
her eye look its turn of observation, and seemed to 
watch his reply. Perhaps the delight which she expe- 
rienced in the course of that evening, though transient, 
and fol owed by much sorrow, was in its nature the most 
pure and disinterested which the human mind is capable 
of enjoying. 

“ Baron,” said the Chevalier, “ I would not trust my 
mistress in the company of your young friend. He is 
really, though perhaps somewdiat romantic, one of the 
most fascinating young men whom I have ever seen.” 

‘‘ And by my honour, sir,”replied the Baron, “ the lad 
can sometimes be as dowfF as a sexagenery like myself. 
If your Royal Highness had seen him dreaming and 
dozing about the banks of Tully-Veolan like a hypo- 
chondriac person, or, as Burton’s Anatomia hath it, a 
phrenesiac or lethargic patient, you would wonder where 
he hath sae suddenly acquired all this fine sprack festiv- 
ity and jocularity.” 

“Truly,” said Fergus Mac-Ivor, “I think it can only 
be the inspiration of the tartans; for, though Waverley he 
always a young fellow of sense and honour, 1 have hitherto 
often found him a very absent and inattentive companion.” 

“ We are the more obliged to him,” said the Pi ince, 
“ for having reserved for this evening qualities wh ch 
even such intimate friends had not discovered. — But 
come, gentlemen, the night advances, and the 
ness of to-morrow must be early thought upon. Each 
take chai-ge of his fair partner, and honour a small re- 
freshment with your company.” 

He led*the way to another suit of apartments, and as- 
.sumed the seat and canopy at the head of a long range 
of tables, with an air of dignity mingled with courtesy, 
which well became his high birth and lofty pretensions. 
An hour had hardly flown away when the musicians play- 
ed the signal for parting, so well known in Scotland. 

“ Good night then,” said the Chevalier, rising ; “Good 
night, and joy be with you ! — Good night, fair ladies, 


WAVERLEY. 


53 


who have so liighly honoured a proscribed and baniflied 
Prince. — Good night, my brave friends ; may the hap- 
piness we liave ibis evening experienced be an omen ol 
our return to these our paternal halls, speedily and in 
trium])h, and of many and many future meetings of 
mirth and pleasure in the palace of Holyrood !” 

When the Baron of Bradwardine afterwards mention- 
ed this adieu of the Chevalier, he never failed to repeat 
in a melancholy tone, 


** Audiit, et voti Phoebus succedere partem 
Mente dedit ; partem volucres dispersit in auras 

* which,” as he added, “ is weel rendered into English 
metre by my friend Bangour ; 

Ae half the prayer wi' Phoebus grace did find. 

The t'other half he whistled down the wind.' ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The March, 

The conflicting passions and exhausted feelings of 
Waveiley had resigned him to late but sound repose. 
He was dreaming of Glennaquoich, and had transferred 
to the halls of Ian nan Chaistel the festal train which so 
lately graced those of Holyrood. The pibroch too was 
distinctly heard ; and this at least was no delusion, for the 
“ proud step of the chief piper”of the “clilain IMac-Ivor” 
was perambulating the court before the door of his Chief- 
tain’s quafters, and as Mrs. Flockbart, apparently no 
friend to his minstrelsy, was pleased to observe, “ gar- 
ring the very stane-and-lime wa’s dingle wi’ his screecli- 
ing.” Of course it soon became too powerful for Wa- 

VOL. II. 


54 


WAVKIM.EY. 


verU'y^s dream, with which it had at first rather harmon 
ized. 

'J'he sound of Callum’s brogues in his apartment, (foi 
Mac-Ivor had again assigned Waverley to his care) was 
the next note of parting. “ Winna yere honour bang 
up Vich Ian Vohr and ta Prince are awa’ to the lang 
green glen aiiint the clachan, tat they ca’ the King’s 
Park, '3 and rnony ane’s on his ain shanks tliQ day that 
will be carried on ilher folks ere night.” 

Waverley sprung up, and, with Callum’s assistance 
and instructions, adjusted his tartans in proper costume. 
Callum told him also, “ tat his leather dorlach wi’ the 
Jock on her was come frae Doune, and she was awa’ 
again in the wain wi’ Vich Ian Vohr’s walise.” 

By this periphrasis Waverley readily apprehended his 
portmanteau was intended. He thought upon the mys- 
terious packet of the maid of the cavern, which seemed 
always to escape him when within his very grasp. But 
this was no time for indulgence of curiosity ; and hav- 
ing declined Mrs. Flockhart’s compliment of a mornings 
L c, a matutinal dram, being probably the only man in 
the Chevalier’s army by whom such a courtesy would 
have been rejected, he made his adieus, and departed 
with Callum. 

“ Callum,” said he, as they proceeded down a dirty 
close to gain the southern skirts of the Canongate, 

what shall I do for a horse ?” 

“ Ta de’il ane ye maun think o’,” said Callum. ‘‘ Vich 
Ian Vohr’s marching on foot at the head o’ his kin, (not 
to say ta Prince, wha does the like,) wi’ his target on 
his shoulder, and ye maun e’en be neighbour-like.” 

“ And so I will, Callum, — give me my target ; — so, 
there we are fixed. How does it look .^” 

“ Like the bra’ Highlandertat’s painted on the board 
afore the mickle change-house they ca’ Luck4e Middle- 
mass’s,” answered Callum ; meaning, I must observe, a 
high compliment, for, in his opinion, Luckie Middle- 
mass’s sign was an exquisite specimen of art. Waverley, 


WAVE RLE Y. 


56 


^ however, not feeling the full force of this polite simile, 
asked him no farther questions. 

Upon extricating themselves from the mean and dirty 
suburbs of the metropolis, and emerging into the open 
air, Waverley felt a renewal both of health and spirits, 
and turned his recollection with firmness upon the events 
of the preceding evening, and with hope and resolution 
towards those of the approaching day. 

When he had surmounted a small craggy eminence, 
called St. Leonard’s Hill, the King’s Park, or the hollow 
between the mountain of Arthur’s Seat, and the rising 
grounds on which the southern part of Edinburgh is now 
built, lay beneath him, and displayed a singular and an- 
imating prospect. It was occupied by the army of the 
Highlanders, now in the act of preparing for their march. 
Waverley had already seen something of the kind at the 
hunting-match which he attended with Fergus Mac-lvor, 
but this was on a scale of much greater magnitude, and 
incomparably deeper interest. The rocks, which form- 
ed the back-ground of the scene, and the very sky it- 
self, rang with the clang of the bagpipers, summoning 
forth, each with his appropriate pibroch, his chieftain and 
clan. The mountaineers, rousing themselves from their 
couch under the canopy of heaven, with the hum and 
bustle of a confused and irregular multitude, like bees 
alarmed and arming in their hives, seemed to possess all 
the pliability of movement fitted to execute military 
manoeuvres. Their motions appeared spontaneous and 
confused, but #ie result was order and regularity ; so 
that a general must have praised the conclusion, though 
a martinet might have ridiculed the method by which it 
was attained. 

The sort of complicated medley created by the hasty 
arrangements of the various clans under their respective 
banners, for the purpose of getting into the order of 
march, was in ilseif a gay and lively spectacle. They 
had no tents to strike, Inving generally, and by choice, 
slept upon the open field, although the autumn was 
now waning, and the nights began to be frosty. For a 


56 


WA VI'JILK Y. 


little space, while they were getting into order, there was ^ 
exhibited a changing, fluctuating, and confused appearance 
of waving tartans and floating plumes, and of banners dis- 
playing tile proud gathering word of Clanronald, Ganion 
Coheriga — (gainsay who dare ;) Loch-Sloy, the watch- 
word of the Mac-Farlanes ; Forth, fortune, and fill the 
fetters, ihc motto of the Marquis of Tullibardine ; Bijdand, 
that of Lord Lewis Gordon ; and the appropriate signal 
words and emblems of many other chieftains and clans. 

At length the mixed and wavering multitude arranged 
themselves into a narrow and dusky column of great 
length, stretching through the whole extent of the val- 
ley. In the front of the column ihe^ standard of the 
Chevalier was displayed, bearing a red cross upon a white 
ground, with the motto Tandem Triumphans. The few 
cavalry, being chiefly Lowland gentry, with their domes- 
tic servants and retainers, formed the advanced guard of 
the army, and their standards, of which they had rather 
too many in respect of their numbers, were seen waving 
upon the extreme verge of the horizon. Many horse- 
men of this body, among whom Waverley accidentally 
remarked Balmawhapple, and his lieutenant, Jinker, 
(which last, however, had been reduced, with several 
others, by the advice of the Baron of Bradwardine, to 
the situation of what he called reformed officers, or re- 
formadoes,) added to the liveliness, though by no means 
to the regularity, of the scene, by galloping their horses 
as fast forward as the press would permit, to join their 
proper station in the Van. The fascinatj^ns of the Cir- 
ces of the High Street, and the potations of strength 
with which they had been drenched over night, had prob- 
ably detained these heroes within the walls of Edinburgh 
somewhat later than was consistent with their morning 
duty. Of such loiterers, the prudent took the longer 
and circuitous, but more open route, to attain their place 
in the march, by keeping at some distance from the in- 
fantry and making their way through the inclosures to 
the right, at the expense of leaping over or pulling down 
the dry-stone fe ices. The irregular appearance and 


W WKIll-RY. 


57 


vanishing of these small parties of horsemen, as well as 
llie confusion occasioned by those who endeavoured, 
though generally without effect, to press to the* from 
through the crowd of Highlanders, maugre their curses, 
oaths, and opposition, added to the picturesque wildness, 
what it took from the military regulariiv, of the scene 

While Waverley gazed upon this remarkable spectacle, 
rendered yet more impressive by the occasional clischai ge 
of cannon-shot from the Castle at the Highland guards 
as they were withdrawn from its vicinity to join their 
main body, Callum, with his usual freedom of interfer- 
ence, reminded him tiiat Vich Ian Vohr’s folk were 
nearly at the head ol the column of march which was 
still distant, and that “ they would gang very fast after 
the cannon fired.” Thus admonished, Waverley walk- 
ed briskly forward, yet often casting a glance upon the 
darksome clouds of warriors who were collected before 
and beneath him. A nearer view, indeed, rather dimin- 
ished the effect impressed on the mind by the more dis- 
tant appearance of the army. The leading men of each 
clan were well armed with broad-sword, target, and fu- 
see, to which, all added the dirk, and most the steel pis- 
tol. But these consisted of gentlemen, that is, relations 
of the chief, however distant, and who had an immedi- 
ate title to his countenance and protection. Finer and 
hardier men coula not have been selected out of 
any army in Christendom ; while the free and inde- 
pendent habits which each possessed, and which each 
was yet so well taught to subject to the command of his 
chief, and the peculiar mode of discipline adopted in 
Highland warfare, rendered them equally formidable by 
their individual courage and high spirit, and from their 
rational conviction of the necessity of acting in unison, 
and of giving their national mode of attack the fullest 
opportunity of success. 

But, in a lower rank to these, there were found individ- 
uals of an inferior description, the common peasantry of 
the Highland country, who, although they did not allow 
themselves to be so called, and claimed often, with appar- 


58 


WAVERLKY. 


ent truth, to be of more ancient descent than the masters ^ 
whom they served, bore, nevertheless, the livery ofextreme 
penury, being indifferently accoutred, and worse armed, 
i)alf naked, stinted in growth, and miserable in aspect. 
Each important clan had some of those Helots attached to 
them ; — thus, the Mac-Couls, though tracing their descent 
from Comhal, the father of Finn or Fingal, were a sort of 
GibeoniteSjOr hereditary servants to the Stuarts of Appine; 
the Macbeths, descended from the unhappy monarch of 
that name, were subjects to the Morays, and clan Donno- 
chy, or Robertsons of Athole ; and many other examples 
might be given, were it not for the risk of hurting any pride 
of clanship which may yet be left, and thereby drawing 
a Highland tempest into the shop of ray publisher. Now 
these same Helots, though forced into the field by the 
arbitrary authority of the chieftains under whom they 
hewed wood and drew water, were, in general, very 
sparingly fed, ill dressed, and worse armed. The latter 
circumstance was indeed owing chiefly to the general 
disarming act, which had been carried into effect osten- 
r>ibly through the whole Highlands, although most of the 
chieftains contrived to elude its influence by retaining the 
weapons of their own immediate clansmen, and deliver- 
ing up those of less value, which they collected from 
these inferior satellites. It followed, as a matter of 
course, that, as we have already hinted, many of these 
poor fellows were brought to the field in a very wretch- 
ed condition. 

From this it happened, that, in bodies, the van of which 
were admirably well-armed in their own fashion, the rear 
resembled actual banditti. Here was a pole-axe, there 
a sword without a scabbard ; here a gun without a lock, 
there a scythe set straight upon a pole ; and some had 
only their dirks, and bludgeons or stakes pulled out of 
hedges. The grim, uncombed, and wild appearance of 
these men, most of whom gazed with all the admiration of 
ignorance upon the most ordinary production of domestic 
art, created surprise in the Lowlands, but it also cre- 
ated terror. So little was the condition of the Highlands 


WAVE RLE Y. 


5y 


known at that late period, that the character and appear- 
ance of their population, while thus sallying forih as uni- 
tary adventurers, conveyed to the south-country Lowland- 
ers as much surprise as if an invasion of African negroes, 
or Esquimaux Indians, had issued forth from ihe north- 
ern mountains of their own native country. It cannot 
therelore be wondered if Waverley, who had hitherto 
judged of the Highlanders generally, from the samples 
which the policy of Fergus had from time to time ex- 
hibited, should have felt damped and astonished at the 
daring attempt of a body not then exceeding four thou- 
sand men, and of whom not above half the number, at 
the utmost, were armed, to change the fate, and alter 
the dynasty, of the British kingdoms. 

As he moved along the column, which still remained 
stationary, an iron gun, the only piece of artillery pos- 
sessed by the army which meditated so important a rev- 
olution, was fired as the signal of march. The Cheva- 
lier had expressed a wish to leave this useless piece of 
ordnance behind him ; but to his surprise, the Highland 
chiefs interposed to solicit that it might accompany their 
march, pleading the prejudices of their follow’ers, who, 
little accustomed to artillery, attached a degree of absurd 
importance to this field-piece, and expected it would con- 
tribute essentially to a victory which they could only owe 
to their own muskets and broad-swords. Two or three 
-French artillerymen were therefore appointed to the 
management of this military engine, which was drawn 
along by a string of Highland ponies, and was, after all, 
only used for the purpose of firing signals.^'* 

No sooner w as its voice heard upon the present occa- 
sion, than the whole line was in motion. A wild cry of 
joy from the advancing battalions rent the air, and was 
then lost in the shrill clangour of the bagpipes, as the 
sound of these, in their turn, was partially drow ned by tho 
heavy tread of so many men put at once into motion. 
The banners glittered and shook as they moved forward, 
and the horse hastened to occupy tlieir station as the 
advanced guard, and to push on reconnoitring parties 


60 


AVAVEllLEY. 


to ascertain and report the motions of the enemy. They 
vanished from Waverley’s eye as they wheeled round 
the base of Arthur’s Seat, under the remarkable ridge 
of basaltic rocks which fronts the little lake of Dud- 
dingston. 

The infantry followed in the same direction, regulat- 
ing their pace by another body which occupied a road 
more to the southward. It cost Edward some exertion 
of activity to attain the place which Fergus’s followers 
occupied in the line of march. 


CHAPTER IX. . 

An Incident gives rise to unavailing Reflections, 

When Waverley reached that part of the column which 
was filled by the clan of IMac-Ivor, they halted, form- 
ed, and received him with a triumphant flourish upon the 
bagpipes, and a loud shout of the men, most of whom 
knew him personally, and were delighted to see him in 
the dress of their country and of their sept. “ You 
shout,” said a Highlander of a neighbouring clan, to Evan 
Dhu, “ as if the Chieftain were just come to your head.”# 

“ Mar e Bran is e a hralhair^ If it be not Bran, it is 
Bran’s Brother,” was the proverbial reply of Maccom- 
bich.*^ 

“ O, then, it is the handsome Sassenach Duinhe-Was- 
sel, that is to be married to Lady Flora 

“ That may be, or it may not be ; and it is neither 
your matter nor mine, Gregor.” 

Fergus advanced to embrace the volunteer, and afford 
him a warm and hearty welcome ; but he thought it 
necessary to apologize for the diminished numbers of 
his battalion, (which did not exceed three hundred men) 
oy observing, he had sent a good many out upon parties. 


WAVERLEY. 


61 


The real fact, however, was, that the defection of Donald 
Lean Bean had deprived him of at least thirty hardy fel- 
lows, whose services he had fully reckoned upon, and that 
many of his occasional adherents liad been recalled by 
their several chiefs to the standards to which they most pro- 
perly owed their allegiance. The rival chief of the great 
northern branch also of his own clan, had mustered Ins 
people, although he had not yet declared either for the gov- 
ernment or for the Chevalier, and by his intrigues had in 
some degree diminished the force with which Fergus 
took the field. To make amends for these disappoint- 
ments, it was universally admitted that the followers of 
Vich Ian Vohr, in point of appearance, equipment, arms, 
and dexterity in using them, equalled the most choice 
troops which followed the standard of Charles Edward. 
Old Ballenkeiroch acted as his major ; and, with the 
other officers who had known VVaverley when at Glen- 
naquoich, gave our hero a cordial reception, as the sharer 
of their future dangers and expected honours. 

The route pursued by the Highland army after leaving 
the village of Duddingston, w^as, for some time, the com- 
mon post-road betwixt Edinburgh and Haddington, until 
they crossed the Esk, af Musselburgh, when, instead of 
keeping the low' grounds towards the sea, they turned 
more inland, and occupied the brow of the eminence 
called Carberry-Hill, a place already distinguished in 
Scottish history as the spot where the lovely IMary sur- 
rendered herself to her insurgent subjects. This direc- 
tion was chosen because the Chevalier had received 
notice that the army of the government, arriving by sea 
from Aberdeen, had landed at Dunbar, and quartered 
the night before to the west of Haddington, with the in- 
tention of falling down towards the sea-side, and ap- 
proaching Edinburgh by the low'er coast-road. By 
keeping the height which cverhung that road in many 
places, it was hoped the Highlanders might find an op- 
portunity of attacking them to advantage. The army 
therefore halted upon the ridge of Carberry-Hill, both 
to refresh the soldiers, and is a central situation from 

17 VOL. 11. 


WAVKRLEY. 




which their march could be directed to any point that 
the motions of the enemy might render most advisable. 
While they remained in this })osition, a messenger arrived 
in haste to desire iMac-lvor to come to the Prince, adding 
that their advanced-post had had a skirmish with some 
of the enemy’s cavalry, and that the Baron of Bradwar- 
dine had sent in a few prisoners. 

Waverley walked forward out of the line to satisfy 
his curiosity, and soon observed five or six of the troop- 
ers, who, covered with dust, liad galloped in to announce 
that the enemy were in full march westward along the 
coast. Passing sti’.l a little farther on, he was struck 
with a groan which issued from a hovel. He approached 
the spot, and heard a voice, in the provincial English of 
his native county, which endeavoured, though frequently 
interrupted by pain, to repeat the Lord’s Prayer. The 
voice of distress always found a ready answer in our 
hero’s bosom. He entered the hovel, which seemed to 
be intended for what is called, in the pastoral' counties 
of Scotland, a smearing-house ; and in its obscurity Ed- 
ward could only at first discern a sort of red bundle ; 
for those who had stripped the wounded man of his arms, 
and part of his clotiies, had left him the dragoon-cloak 
in which he was enveloped. 

“ For the love of God,” said the wounded man, as he 
heard Waverley’s step, “ give me a single drop of water !” 

“ You shall have it,” answered Waverley, at the same 
time raising him in his arms, bearing him to the door of 
the hut, and giving him some drink from his flask. 

“ 1 should know that voice,” said the man ; but, look- 
ing on Waverley’s dress with a bewildered look, — “ no, 
this is not the young squire !” 

This was the common phrase by which Edward was 
distinguished on the estate of Waverley-Honour, and the 
sound now thrilled to his heart with the thousand re- 
collections which the well-known accents of his native 
country had already contributed to awaken. “ noit^h- 
ton !” he said, gazing on the ghastly featuK’s which death 
was fast disfiguring, “ can this be you ?” 


WAVERLET. 


63 


“ I never thought to hear an English voice again,” 
said the wounded man ; “ they left me to live or die here 
as I could, when they found 1 would say nothing about 
the strength of the regiment. But, O squire ! how 
couJd you stay from us so long, and let us be tempted 
by that fiend of the pit, Ruffin f — we should have fol- 
lowed you through flood and fire, to be sure.” 

“ Ruffin ! I assure you, Houghton, you have been 
vilely imposed upon.” 

‘‘ I often thought so,” said Houghton, though they 
showed us your very seal ; and so Timms was shot, and 
f was reduced to the ranks.” 

“ Do not exhaust your strength in speaking,” said Ed- 
ward, “ 1 will get you a surgeon presently.” 

He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now return- 
ing from head-quarters, where he had attended a council 
of \var, and hastened to meet him. ‘‘ Brave news I” 
shouted the Chief ; “ we shall be at it in less than two 
hours. The Prince has put himself at the head of the 
advance ; and, as he drew his sword, called out, ‘ My 
friends, I have thrown away the scabbard.’ Come, Wa- 
verley, we move instantly.” 

‘‘ A moment, — a moment ; this poor prisoner is dy- 
ing ; — where shall I find a surgeon ?” 

“ Why, where should you ? we have none, you know, 
but two or three French fellows, who, I believe, are lit- 
tle better than gardens apothecaires.” 

“ But the man will bleed to death.” 

‘‘ Poor i’ellow !” said Fergus, in a momentaiy fit of 
compassion' ; then instantly added, But it will be a 
thousand men’s fate before night ; so come along.” 

“ I cannot ; I tell you he is a son of a tenant of my 
uncle’s.” 

“ O, if he’s a follower of yours, he must be looked 
to ; I’ll send Callum to you ; but diaoul ! — ceade mil- 
lia molligheart,” continued the impatient chieftain,— 
“ what made an old soldier, like Bradwardine, send 
dying men here to cumber us 

Callum came with his usual alertness, and, indeed, 
Waverley rather gained than lost in the opinion of the 


64 


WAVE RLE T. 


Highlanders, by his anxiety about the wounded man. 
They would not have understood the general philanthro« 
py, which rendered it almost impossible for Waverley tc 
have past any person in such distress ; but, as appre- 
hending that the sufferer was one of his foUowing^^ihey 
unanimously allowed that Waverley’s conduct was that 
of a kind and considerate chieftain, who merited the 
attachment of his people. In about a quarter of an hour 
poor Humphry breathed his last, praying his young mas- 
ter, when he returned to Waverley-Honour, to be kind 
to old Job Houghton and his dame, and conjuring liim 
not to fight with these wild petticoat-men against old 
England. 

When his last breath was drawn, Waverley, who had 
beheld with sincere sorrow, and no slight tinge of re- 
morse, the final agonies of mortality, now witnessed for 
the first time, commanded Callum to remove the body 
into the hut. This the young Highlander performed, 
not without examining the pockets of the defunct, which, 
however, he remarked, had been pretty well spungcd. 
He took the cloak, however, and proceeding with the 
provident caution of a spaniel hiding a bone, concealed 
it among some furze, and carefully marked the spot, ob- 
serving, that if he chanced to return that way, it would 
be an excellent rokelay for his auld mother Elspat. 

It was by a considerable exertion that they regained 
their place in the marching column, which was now 
moving rapidly forward to occupy the high grounds above 
the village of Tranent, between which and the sea lay 
the purposed march of the opposite army. 

This melancholy interview with his late serjeant forced 
many unavailing and painful reflections upon Waverley’s 
mind. It was clear, from the confession of the man, 
that Colonel Gardiner’s proceedings had been strictly war- 
ranted, and even rendered indispensable, by the steps 
taken in Edward’s name to induce the soldiers of his 
troop to mutiny. The circumstance of the seal, he now, 
for^the first time, recollected, and that he had lost it in 
the cavern of the robber, Bean Lean. That the artful 


WAVERLET. 


65 


villain had secured it, and used it as the means of car- 
rying on an intrigue in the regiment for his own purposes, 
was sufficiently evident; and Edward had now little doubt 
that in the packet placed in his portmanteau by his 
daughter, he should find farther light upon his proceed- 
ings. In the meanwhile, the repeated expostulation of 
Houghton, — “ Ah, squire, why did you leave us rung 
like a knell in his ears. 

Yes,” he said, “ I have indeed acted towards you 
with thoughtless cruelty. I brought you from your 
paternal fields, and the protection of ef generous and 
kind landlord, and when 1 had subjected you to all the 
rigour of military discipline, I shunned to bear my own 
share of the burden, and wandered from the duties I had 
undertaken, leaving alike those whom it was my business 
to protect, and my own reputation, to suffer under the ar- 
tifices of villany. O, indolence and indecision of mind ! 
if not in yourselves vices, to how much exquisite misery 
and mischief do you frequently prepare the way 


CHAPTER X. 

The Eve of Battle, 

Although the Highlanders marched on very fast, the 
sun was declining when they arrived upon the brow of 
those high grounds wdiich command an open and exten- 
sive plain stretching northward to the sea, on which are 
situated, but at a considerable distance from each other, 
the small villages of Seaton and Cockenzie, and the 
larger one of Preston. One of the low coast-roads to 
Edinburgh passed through this plain, issuing upon it from 
the inclosures of Seaton-house, and at the town or vil- 
lage of Preston again entering the defiles of an inclosed 

VOL. II. 


66 


WAVERLEY. 


country. By this way the English general had chosen 
to approach the metropolis, botli as most commodious 
for his cavalry, and being probably of opinion that by 
doing so, he would meet in Iront with the Highlanders 
advancing from Edinburgh in the opposite direction. In 
this he was mistaken, for the sound judgment of the 
Chevalier, or of those to whose advice he listened, left 
the direct passage free, but occupied the strong ground 
by which it was overlooked and commanded. 

When the Highlanders reached the heights above the 
plain descriWl!^ they were immediately formed in array 
of battle along the brow of the hill. Almost at the 
same instant the van of the English appeared issuing 
from among the trees and inclosures of Seaton, with 
the purpose of occupying the level plain between the 
high ground and the sea ; the space which divided the 
armies being only about half a mile in breadth. Waver- 
ley could plainly see the squadrons of dragoons issue, 
one after another, from the defiles, with their videttes in 
front, and form upon the plain, with their front opposed 
to that of the Prince’s army. They were followed by 
a train of field-pieces, which, when they reached the 
flank of the dragoons, were also brought into line, and 
pointed against the heights. The march was continued 
by three or four regiments of infantry marching in open 
column, their fixed bayonets showing like successive 
hedges of steel, and their arms glancing like lightning, 
as, at a signal given, they also at once wheeled up, and 
were placed in direct opposition to the Highlanders. A 
second train of artillery, with another regiment of horse, 
closed the long march, and formed on the left flank of 
the infantry, the whole line facing southward. 

While the English army went through these evolutions, 
the Highlanders showed equal promptitude and zeal for 
battle. As fast as the clans came upon the ridge which 
fronted their enemy, they were formed into line, so that 
both armies got into complete order of battle at the same 
moment. When this was accomplished, the Highlanders 
set up a tremendous yelk which was re-echoed by 


WAVERLKY. 


(il 


the heights behind them. The regulars, wno were in 
high spirits, returned a loud shout of defiance, and fired 
one or two of their cannon, upon an advanced post of 
the Highlanders. The latter displayed great earnestness 
to proceed instantly to the attack, Evan Dhu urging to 
Fergus, by way di argument, tliat “ the sidier roy was 
tottering like an egg upon a staff, and that they had a’ 
the vantage of the onset, for even a h^gis (God bless 
her !) could charge down hill.” ' 

But the ground through which the mountaineers must 
have descended, although not of grear extent, was im- 
practicable in its character, being not only marshy, but 
intersected with walls of dry stone, and traversed in its 
whole length by a very broad and deep ditch, circumstan- 
ces wdiich must have given the musketry of the regulars 
dreadful advantages, before the mountaineers could have 
used their swords, on wdiich they were taught to rely. The 
authority of the commanders was therefore interposed to 
curb the impetuosity of the Highlanders, and only a few 
marksmen w^ere sent down the descent to skirmish with the 
enemy’s advanced posts, and to reconnoitre the ground. 

Here then was a military spectacle of no ordinary in- 
terest, or usual occurrence. The two armies, so differ- 
ent in aspect and discipline, yet each admirably trained 
in its own peculiar mode of war, upon whose conflict 
the temporary fate at least of Scotland appeared to de- 
pend, now faced each other like two gladiatprs in the 
arena, each meditating upon the mode of attacking their 
enemy. The leading officers,and the general’s staff of 
each army, could be distinguished in front of their lines, 
busied with spy-glasses to watch each other’s motions, 
and occupied in despatching the orders and receiving 
the intelligence conveyed by the aids-de-camp and or- 
derly men, who gave life to the scene by galloping along 
in different directions, as if the fate of the day depend- 
ed upon the speed of their horses. The space between 
the armies was at times occupied by the partial and ir- 
regular contest of individual sharp-shooters, and a hat 
or bonnet was occasionally seen to fall, as a w'ounded 
^man was borne off by his comrades. These, however, 


TVAVKRLEY. 


6b 

were but trifling skirmishes, for it suited the views of 
neither pany to advance in that direction. From the 
neiglibouring hamlets, the peasantry cautiously showed 
tlnnnselves as if watching the issue ol the expected en- 
gagement ; and at no great distance iinthe bay were two 
square-rigged vessels, bearing the Eiiglifili flag, whose 
tops and yards were crowded with less timid spectators. 

When this awful pause had lasted for a short time, 
Fergus, with another Chieftain, received orders to de- 
tach their clans towards the village of Preston, in order 
to threaten the right flank of Cope’s army, and compel him 
to a change of position. To enable him to execute these 
orders, the Chief of Glennaquoich occupied the church- 
yard of Tranent, a commanding situation, and a cojiven- 
ient })lace, as Evan Dhu remarked, for any gentleman 
who might have the misfortune to be killed, and chanced 
to be curious about Christian burial. To check or dis- 
lodge this party, the English getieral detached two guns, 
escorted by a strong party of cavalry. They approached 
so near, that Waverley could plainly recognize the standard 
of tte troop he had formerly commanded, and hear the 
trumpets and kettle-drums sound the signal of advance, 
which he had so often obeyed. He could hear, too, the 
well-known ’tvord given in the English dialect, by the 
equally w'ell-distingulshed voice of the commanding offi- 
cer for whom he had once felt so much respect. It was 
at that instant, that, looking around him, he saw the wild 
dress and appearance of his Highland associates, heard 
their whispers in an uncouth and unknown language, 
looked upon his own dress, so unlike that which he had 
A^orn from his infancy, and wished to awake from what 
seemed at the moment a dream, strange, horrible, and 
unnatural. “ Good God!” he muttered, ‘‘ am I then a 
traitor to my country, a renegade to my standard, and a 
foe, as that poor dying wretch expressed himself, to my 
native England !” 

Ere he could digest or smother the recollection, the 
tall military form of his late commander came full in view, 
for the purpose of reconnoitring. “ I can hit him now,V 


WAVKIiLi: V. 


f)9 

said Calliitn, cautiously raising his fusee over the wall un- 
der which he h>y couched, at scarce sixty yards distance. 

Edward felt as if he was about to see’ a parricide com- 
mitted in his presence ; for the verierable grey hair and 
striking countenar^y of the veteran, recalled the almost 
paternal respectMvith which his officers universally re- 
garded him. But ere he could say “ Hold !” an aged 
Highlander, who lay beside Callum Beg, slopped his 
arm. “ Spare your shot,” said the seer, “ his hour is 
not yet come. But let him beware of to-morrow — I 
see his winding-sheet high upon his breast.” 

Callum, flint to other considerations, was penetrable to 
superstition. He turned pale at the words of the 
Taishatr, and recovered his piece. Colonel Gardiner, 
unconscious of the danger he had escaped, turned his 
horse round, and rode slowly back to the front of his 
regiment. 

By this time the regular army had assumed a new line, 
with one flank inclined towards the sea, and the other 
resting upon the village of Preston ; and, as similar dif- 
ficulties occurred in attacking their new position, Fergus 
and the rest of the detachment were recalled to theii 
former post. This alteration created the necessity of a 
corresponding change in General Cope’s army, which 
was again brought into aline parallel with that of the 
Highlanders. In these manoeuvres on both sides the 
day-light was nearly consumed, and both armies prepar- 
ed to rest upon their arms for the night in the lines which 
they respectively occupied. 

“There will be nothing done to-night,” said Fergus 
to his friend Waverley ; “ ere we wrap ourselves in our 
plaids, let us go see what the Baron is doing in the rear of 
the line.” 

When they approached his post, they found the good 
old careful officer, after having sent out his night patrols, 
and posted his sentinels, engaged in reading the Evening 
Service of the Episcopal Church to the remainder of 
his troop. His voice was loud and sonorous, and though 
the spectacles upon his nose, and the appearance of 


70 


WAVERiEY. 


Saunders Saunderson, in military array, performing the 
functions of clerk, had something ludicrous, yet the cir- 
cumstances of danger in which they stood, the military 
costume of the audience, and the appearance of their 
horses, saddled and picquetted behind them, gave an 
impressive and solemn effect to the office of devotion. 

“ I have confessed to-day ere you were awake,” whis- 
pered Fergus to Waverley, “ yet I am not so strict a 
catholic as to refuse to join in this good man’s prayers.” 
Edward assented, and they remained till the Baron had 
concluded the service. 

As he shut the book, “ Now, lads,” said he, “ have at 
them in the morning, with heavy hands and light con- 
sciences.” He then kindly greeted Mac-Ivor and Wa- 
verley, who requested to know his opinion of their situ- 
ation. “ Why, you know Tacitus saith, ‘ In rebus bellicis 
maxime dominatur Fortuna,^ which is equiponderate with 
our vernacular adage, ‘ Luck can rnaist in the mellee.’ 
But credit me, gentlemen, yon man is not a deacon o’ 
his craft. He damps the spirits of the poor lads he 
commands, by keeping them on the defensive, whilk of 
itself implies inferiority or fear. Now will they lie on 
their arms yonder, as anxious and as ill at ease as a toad 
under a harrow, while our’men will be quite fresh and 
blithe for action in the morning. Well, good night. — 
One thing troubles me, but if to-morrow goes well off, J 
will consult you about it, Glennaquoich.” 

“ I could almost apply to IVIr. Bradwardine the char- 
acter which Henry gives of Fluellen,” said Waverley, as 
his friend and he walked towards their bivouac : 

“ Though it appears a little out of fashicr.. 

There is much care and valour in this ‘ Scotchman.’" 

He has seen much service,” answered Fergus. 
“ and one is sometimes astonished to find how much 
nonsense and reason are mingled in his composition. [ 
wonder what can be troubling his mind — probably some- 
thing about Rose. — Hark ! the English are setting theii 
watch.” 


>VAVERLEY. 


71 


The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment of the 
fifes swelled up the hill — died away — resumed its thun- 
der — and was at length hushed. The trumpets and ket- 
tle-drums of the cavalry were next heard to perform the 
beautiful and wild point of war appropriated as a signal 
for that piece of nocturnal duty, and then finally sunk 
upon the wind with a shrill and mournful cadence. 

The friends, who had now reached their post, stood 
and looked round them ere they lay down to rest. The 
western sky twinkled with stars, but a frost-mist rising 
from the ocean, covered the eastern horizon, and rolled 
in white wreaths along the plain where the adverse army 
lay couched upon their arms. Their advanced posts 
were pushed as far as the side of the great ditch at the 
bottom of the descent, and had kindled large fires at 
different intervals, gleaming with ol scure and hazy lustre 
through the heavy fog which encircled them with a 
doubtful halo. 

The Highlanders, ‘ thick as leaves in Valumbrosa,’ lay 
stretched upon the ridge of the hill, buried (excepting 
their sentinels) in the most profound repose. “ How 
many of these brave fellows will sleep more soundly be- 
fore to-morrow night, Fergus !” said Waverley, with an 
involuntary sigh. 

“ You must not think of that,” answered Fergus 
whose ideas were entirely military. You must only 
think of your sword, and by whom it was given. All 
other refiections are now too latk.” 

\/ith the opiate contained in this undeniable remark, 
Edward endeavoured to lull the tumult of his conflicting 
feelings. The Chieftain and he combining their plaids, 
made a comfortable and warm couch. Callum, sitting 
down at their head, (for it was his duty to watch upon 
the immediate person of the Chief,) began a long mourn- 
ful song in Gaelic, to a low and uniform tune, which, 
like the srund of the wind at a distance, soon lulled them 
to sleep. 


72 


waverley. 


CHAPTER XL 
The Conflict, 

When Fergus Mac-Ivor and his friend had slept for a 
few hours, they were awakened, and summoned to attend 
the Prince. The distant village-clock was heard to toll 
three as they hastened to the place where he lay. He was 
already surrounded by his principal officers and the chiefs 
of clans. A bundle of pease-straw, which had been lately 
his couch, now served for his seat. Just as Fergus reached 
the circle, the consultation had broken up. “ Courage, 
my brave friends !” said the Chevalier, and each one put 
himself instantly at the head of his command ; “ a faith- 
ful friend^^has offered to guide us by a practicable, though 
narrow and circuitous route, which sweeping to our 
right, traverses the broken ground and morass, and en- 
ables us to gain the firm and open plain, upon which the 
enemy are lying. This difficulty surmounted. Heaven 
and your good swords must do the rest.” 

The proposal spread unanimous joy, and each leader 
hastened to get his men into order with as little noise as 
possible. The army, moving by its right from off the 
ground on which they had rested, soon entered the path 
through the morass, conducting their march with aston- 
ishing silence and great rapidity. The mist had not 
risen to the higher grounds, so that for some time diey 
had the advantage of star-light. But this was lost as 
the stars faded before approaching day, and the head 
of the marching column, continuing its descent, plunged 
as it were into the heavy ocean of fog, which rolled its 
white waves over the whole plain, and over the sea, by 
which it was bounded. Some difficulties were now to be 
encountered, inseparable from darkness, a narrow, bro- 
ken, and marshy path, and the necessity of ])reserving 


'WAVERLET. 


73 


onion in the march. These, however, were less incon- 
venient to Highlanders, from their habits of life, than 
they would have been to any other troops, and they con- 
tinued a steady and swift movement. 

As the clan of Ivor approached the firm ground, fol- 
lowing the track of those who preceded them, the chal- 
lenge of a patrol was heard through the mist, though 
they could not see the dragoon by whom it was made — 

“ Who goes there 

“ Hush,’* cried Fergus, “ hush ! Let none answer, as 
he values his life — Press forward and they continued 
their march with silence and rapidity. 

The patrol fired his carabine upon the body, and the 
report was instantly followed by the clang of his horse’s 
feet as he galloped off. Hylax in limine latr at sdidi # 
the Baron of Bradwardine, who heard the shot ; “ that 
loon will give the alarm.” 

The clan of Fergus had now gained the firm plain, 
which had lately borne a large crop of corn. But the 
harvest was gathered in, and the expanse was unbroken 
by tree, bush, or interruption of any kind. The rest of 
the army were following fast, when they heard the drums 
of the enemy beat the general. Surprise, however, had 
made no part of their plan, so they were not disconcert- 
ed by this intimation that the foe was upon his guard, and 
prepared to receive them. It only hastened their dispo- 
sitions for the combat, which were very simple. 

The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern 
end of the wfde plain, or stubble field, so often referred to,- 
was drawn up in two lines, extending from the morass 
towards the sea. The first was destined to charge the 
enemy, the second to act as a reserve. The few horse, 
whom the Prince headed in person, remained between 
the two lines. The Adventurer had intimated a resolu- 
tion to charge in person at the head of his first line ; but 
his purpose was deprecated by all around him, and he 
was with difficulty induced to abandon.it. 

VOL. II. 


74 


WAVERLEY. 


Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepar- 
ed for instant combat. The clans, of which it was com- 
posed, formed each a sort of separate phalanx, narrow 
in front, and in depth ten, twelve, or fifteen files accord- 
ing to the strength of the following. The best-armed 
and best-born, for the words were synonymous, were 
placed in front of each of these irregular subdivisions. 
The others in the rear shouldered forward the front, and 
by their pressure added both physical impulse, and addi- 
tional ardour and confidence, to those who were first to 
encounter the danger. 

“ Down with your plaid, Waverley,” cried Fergus, 
throwing off his own ; “ we’ll win silks for our tartans 
before the sun is above the sea.” 

The clansmen on every side stript their plaids, pre- 
pared their arms, and there was an awful pause of about 
three minutes, during which the men, pulling off their 
bonnets, raised their faces to heaven, and uttered a short 
prayer ; then pulled their bonnets over their brows, and be- 
gan to move forward, at first slowly. Waverley felt his heart 
at that moment throb as it would have burst from his bosom. 
It was not fear, it was not ardour, — it was a compound of 
both, a new and deeply energetic impulse, that with its first 
emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and madden- 
ed his mind. The sounds around him combined to exalt 
his enthusiasm ; the pipes played, and the clans rushed 
forward, each in its own dark column. As they advanced 
they mended their pace, and tlie muttering sounds of the 
men to each other began to swell into a wild cry. 

At this moment the sun, which was now risen above the 
horizon, dispelled the mist. The vapours rose like a 
curtain, and showed the two armies in the act of closing. 
The line of the regulars was formed directly fronting 
the attack of the Highlanders ; it glittered with the ap- 
pointments of a complete army, and was flanked by cav- 
alry and artillery. But the sight impressed no terror on 
the assailants. 

“ Forward, sons of Ivor,” cried their Chief, “ or the 
Camerons will draw the first blood ' — ” They rushed on 
with a tremendous yell. 


WAVKULE V. 


75 


'Fhe rest is well known. The horse, who were com- 
manded to charge the advancing Highlanders in the flanks^ 
received an irregular fire from their fusees as they ran on, 
and, seized with a disgraceful panic, wavered, halted, dis- 
banded, and galloped from the field. The artillery-men, 
deserted by the cavalry, fled after discharging their 
pieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their guns 
when fired, and drew their broad-swords, rushed with 
headlong fury against the infantry. 

It was at this moment oi confusion '*^and terror, that 
Waverley remarked an English officer, apparently of 
high rank, standing alone and unsupported, by a field- 
piece, which, after the flight of the men by whom it was 
wrought, he had himself levelled and discharged against 
the clan of Mac-lvor, the nearest group of Highlanders 
within his aim. Struck with his tall martial figure, and 
eager to save him from inevitable destruction, Waverley 
outstripped for an instant even the speediest of the war- 
riors, and reaching the spot first, called to him to surren- 
der. The officer replied by a thrust with his sword, 
which Waverley received in his target, and in turning it 
aside, the Englishman’s weapon broke. At the same 
time the battle-axe of Dugald Mahony was in the act 
of descending upon the officer’s head. Waverley inter- 
cepted and prevented the blow, and the officer, perceiv- 
ing further resistance unavailing, and struck with Ed- 
ward’s generous anxiety for his safety, resigned the frag- 
ment of his sword, and was committed by Waverley to 
Dugald, with strict charge to use him well, and not to 
pillage his person, promising him, at the same lime, full 
ijideiTinification for the spoil. 

On Edward’s right the battle for a few minutes raged 
fierce and thick. The English infantry, trained in the 
wars in Flanders, stood their ground with great courage. 
But their extended files were pierced and broken in many 
places by the close masses of the clans ; and in the per- 
sonal struggle that ensued, the nature of the Highlanders’ 
weapons, and their extraordinary fierceness and activi- 
ty, gave them a decided superiority over those who had 


WAVEULEY. 


7t) 

been accustomed to trust much to their array and disci 
pline, arid felt that the one was broken and the othei 
useless. Waverley, as he cast his eyes towards the 
scene of smoke and slaughter, observed Colonel Gardiner, 
deserted by his own soldiers in spite of all his attempts to 
rally them, yet spurring his horse through the field to 
take the command of a small body of infantry, who, 
with their backs arranged against the wall of his own 
park, (for his house was close by the field of battle,) 
continued a desperate and unavailing resistance. Wa- 
verley could perceive that he had already received many 
wounds, his clothes and saddle being marked with blood. 
To save this good and brave man, became the instant 
object of his most anxious exertions. But he could 
only witness his fall. Ere Edward could make his way 
among the Highlanders, who, furious and eager for spoil, 
now thronged upon each other, he saw his former com- 
mander brought from his horse by tbe blow of a scythe, 
and beheld him receive, while on the ground, more 
wounds than would have let out twenty lives. When 
Waverley came up, however, perception had not entire- 
ly fled. The dying warrior seemed to recognize Ed- 
ward, for he fixed his eye upon him with an upbraiding, 
yet sorrowful look, and appeared to struggle for utter- 
ance. But he felt that death was dealing closely with 
him, and resigning his purpose, and folding his hands as 
if in devotion', he gave up his soul to his Creator. The 
look with which he regarded Waverley in his dying mo- 
ments, did not strike him so deeply at that crisis of hur- 
ry and confusion, as when it recurred to his imagination 
at the distance of some time.^^ 

Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole 
field. The battle was fought and won, and the whole 
baggage, artillery, and military stores of the regular army 
remained in possession of the victors. Never was a 
victory more complete. Scarce any escaped from the 
battle, excepting the cavalry, who had left it at the very 
onset, and even these were broken into different parties 
and scattered all ^over the country. So far as our tale is 


WAVERLEY. 


77 


concerned, we have only to relate the fate of Balma- 
whappie, who, mounted on a horse as head-strong and 
stifl-nocked as his rider, pursued the flight of the 
dragoons above four miles from the field of battle, 
when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace* 
turned round, and cleaving his skull with their broad- 
swoids, satisfied the world that the unfortunate gentle- 
man had actually brains, the end of his life thus giving 
proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress. His 
death was lamented by fevv. Most of those who knew iiin 
agreed in the pithy observation of Ensign Maccombich, 
that there “ was mair tint (lost) at SherifF-Muir.” His 
friend. Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only to ex- 
culpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing 
to the catastrophe. “ He had tauld the laird a thousand 
times,” he said, “ that it was a burning shame to put a 
martingale upon the puir thing, when he would needs 
ride her vvi’ a curb of half a yard lang ; and that he 
could na but bring himsel (not to say her) to some mis- 
chief, by flinging her down, or otherwise ; whereas, if he 
had had a wee bit rinnin ring on the snaffle, shewadha’ 
rein’d as cannily as a cadger’s pownie.” 

Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple.^^ 


CHAPTER XII. 

An Unexpected Embarrassment, 

When the battle was over, and all things coming into 
order, the Baron of Bradw'ardine, returning from the 
duty of the day, and ha\ing disposed those under his 
command in their proper stations, sought the Chieftain 
of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward Waverley. He 
found the former busied in determining disputes among 

VOL. II. 


78 


M AVERLI5Y. 


his clansmen about points of precedence and deeds of 
valour, besides sundry high and doubtful questions con- 
cerning plunder. The most important of the last re- 
spected the property of a gold watch, which had once 
belonged to some unfortunate English officer. The par- 
ly against whom judgment was awarded, consoled him- 
self by observing, “ She (L e, the watch, which he took 
for a living animal,) died the very night Vich Ian Vohr 
gave her to Murdoch the machine having, in fact, stop- 
ped for want of winding up. 

It was just when this important question was decided, 
that the Baron of Bradwardine, with a careful and yet 
important expression of countenance, joined the two 
young men. He descended from his reeking charger, 
tl e care of which he recommended to one of his grooms 
“ I seldom ban, sir,” said he to the man ; “ but if you 
pl^'y any of your houndVfoot tricks, and leave puir Ber- 
wick before he’s sorted, to rin after spuilzie, de’ilbe wi* 
in'i if I do not give your craig a thraw.” He then 
stroked with great complacency the animal which had 
borne him through the fatigues of the day, and having 
taken a tender leave of him, — “ Weel, my good young 
friends, a glorious and decisive victory,” said he ; “ but 
these loons of troopers fled ower soon. I should have 
liked to have shown you the true points of the prcelium 
equestre, or equestrian combat, whilk their cowardice 
has postponed, and which I hold to be the pride and 
terror of warfare. Weel, I have fought once more in 
this old quarrel, though I admit I could not be so far hen 
as you, lads, being that it was my point of duty to keep 
together our handful of horse. And no cavalier ought 
in any wise to begrudge honour that befalls his compan- 
ions, even though they are ordered upon thrice his dan- 
ger, whilk another time, by the blessing of God, may 
be his own case. — But, Glennaquoich, and you, Mr. Wa- 
verley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a mat- 
ter of mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour 
of the house of Bradwardine. — I crave your pardon, 


WAVE RLE Y. 


79 


Knsign Maccombich, and yours, Inveraughlin, an j yours, 
Edderalshendrach, and yours, sir.” 

The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, 
remembering the death of his son, loured on him with a 
look of savage defiance. The Baron, quick as lightning 
at taking umbrage, had already bent his brow, when 
Glennaquoich dragged his major from the spot, and re- 
monstrated with him, in the authoritative tone of a chief- 
tain, on the madness of reviving a quarrel in such a 
moment. 

‘ The ground is cumbered with carcasses,” said the 
old mountaineer, turning sullenly away ; “ one more 
would hardly have been kenn’d upon it, and if it wasna for 
yoursel, Vich Ian Vohr, that one should be Bradwar- 
dine’s or mine.” 

The Chief soothed while he hurried him away, and 
then returned to the Baron. “ It is Ballenkeiroch,” said 
he, in an under and confidential voice, “ father of the 
young man who fell eight years since in the unlucky affair 
at the Mains.” 

“ Ah !” said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubt- 
ful sternness of his features, “ I can take mickle frae a 
man to whom I have unhappily rendered sic a displeas- 
ure as that. Ye were right to apprise me, Glennaquoich ; 
he may look as black as midnight at Martinmas ere 
Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him 
wrang. — Ah ! I have nae male lineage, and I should 
bear with one I have made childless, though you are 
aware the blood-wit was made up to your ain satisfaction 
by assythment, and that I have since expedited letters 
of slains. — Weel, as I have said, I have no male issue, 
and yet it is needful that I maintain the honour of my 
bouse ; and it is on that score I prayed ye for your pe- 
culiar and private attention.” 

Tlie two young men awaited to hear him, in anxious 
curiosity. 1 doubt na, lads,” he proceeded, “ but your 
education has been sae seen to, that ye understand the 
Ijiie nature of the feudal tenures ?” 

Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, 


60 


WAVERIEY. 


“ Intimately, Baron,” and touched Wav^erley, as a signal 
to express no ignorance. 

“ And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of 
the Barony of Bradwardine is of a nature alike honour- 
able and peculiar, being blanch, (which Craig opines 
ought to be Latinated blancum, or rather /rancwr/i, a free 
holding,) pro serviiio detrahendi, seu exuendi, caligas 
regis post battallinm,^^ Here Fergus turned his falcon 
eye upon Edward, with an almost imperceptible rise of 
his eyebrow, to which his shoulders corresponded in the 
same degree of elev^ation. “ Now, twa points of dubi- 
tation occur to me upon this topic. First, whether this 
service, or feudal homage, be at any event due to the 
person of the Prince, the words being, per expressum, 
caligas REGIS, the boots of the king himself ; and I 
pray your opinion anent that particular before we pro- 
ceed farther.” 

“ Why, he is Prince Regent,” answered Mac-Ivor, 
with laudable composure of countenance ; “ and in the 
court of France, all the honours are rendered to the 
person of the Regent which are due to that of the King. 
Besides, were 1 to pull off either of their boots, I would 
render that service to the young Chevalier ten times 
more willingly than to his father.” 

“ Ay, but I talk not of personal predilections. How- 
ever, your authority is of great weight as to the usages 
of the court of France : And doubtless the Prince, as 
alter ego, may have a right to claim the Jiomagium of 
the great tenants of the crown, since all faithful subjects 
are commanded, in the commission of regency, to re- 
spect him as the King’s own person. Far, therefore, be 
it from me to diminish the lustre of his authority, by 
withholding this act of homage, so peculiarly calculated 
to give it splendour ; for I question if the Emperor of 
Germany hath his boots taken off by a free baron of the 
empire. But here lieth the second difficulty — The 
Prince wears no boots, but simply brogues and trews.” 

This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus’s 
gravity. 


WAVE RLE Y. 


8J 


Why,” said he, you know, Baron, the proverb 
tells us, ‘ It’s ill taking the breeks off a Highlandmaii,’ 
— and the boots are here in the same predicament.” 

“ The word caligce, however,” continued the Baron, 
“ though I admit, that, by family tradition, and even in 
our ancient evidents, it is explained lie boots, means, in 
its primitive sense, rather sandals ; and Caius Ceesar, the 
nephew and successor of Caius Tiberius received the 
agnomen of Caligula, a caligulis, sive caligis levioribusy 
quibus adolescentior usus fuerat in exercitu Germanir.t 
patris sui. And the caligce were also proper to the mo- 
nastic bodies ; for we read in an ancient Glossarium, 
upon the rule of St. Benedict, in the Abbey of St. 
Amand, that caligoi were tied with latchets.” 

“ That will apply to the brogues,” said Fergus. 

“ It will so, my dear Glennaquoich, and the words are 
express ; Caligce dictce sunt quia ligantur ; nnm socci 
non ligantur^ sed tanturn intromittuntur ; that is, caliga, 
are denominated from the ligatures, wherewith they are 
bound 5 whereas socci, which may be analogous to our 
mules, whilk the English denominate slippers, are only 
slipped upon the feet. The words of the charter are also 
alternative, exuere, sue detrahere ; that is, to undo, as in 
the case of sandals or brogues ; and to pull off, as we 
say vernacularly, concerning boots. Yet I would we had 
more light ; but I fear there is little chance of finding 
hereabout any erudite author, de re vestiaria^ 

“ I should doubt it very iruch,” said the Chieftain, 
looking around on the straggling Highlanders, who were 
returning, loaded with spoils of the slain, “ though the 
res vestiaria itself seems to be in some request at present.” 

This remark coming within the Baron’s idea of jocu- 
larity, he honoured it with a smile, but immediately re- 
sumed what to him appeared very serious business. 

“ Baillie Macwheeble indeed he Ids an opinion, that 
this honorary service is due, from its very nature, si 
petaiur tanium ; only if his Royal Highness shall require 
of the great tenant of the crown to perform that personal 
duty : and indeed he pointed out the case in Dirlcton’s 


82 


WAVERLEY. 


Doubts and Queries, Grippit versus Spicer, anent the 
eviction of an estate ob non solutum canonem, that is, 
for non-payment of a feu-duty of three pepper-corns 
a-year, whilk were taxt to be worth seven-eighths of a 
penny Scots, in whilk the defender was assoilzied. But 
I deem it safest, wi’ your good favour, to place myself 
ill the way of rendering the Prince this service, and to 
proffer performance thereof ; and I shall cause the Bail- 
lie to attend with a schedule of a protest, whilk he has here 
prepared, (taking out a paper) intimating, that if it shall be 
ids Royal Highness’s pleasure to accept of other assistance 
at pulling off his (whether the same shall be ren- 

dered boots or brogues,) save that of the said Baron of 
Bradvvardine, who is in presence ready and willing to 
perform the same, it shall in nowise impinge upon or pre- 
judice the right of the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwar- 
dine to perform the said service in future : nor shall it 
give any esquire, valet of the chamber, squire or page, 
whoae assistance it may please his Royal Highness to 
employ, any right, title, or ground, for evicting from the 
said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine the estate and barony 
of Bradwardine, and others held as aforesaid, by the due 
and faithful performance thereof.” 

Fergus highly applauded this arrangement ; and the 
Baron took a friendly leave of them, with a smile of 
contented importance upon his visage. 

“ Long live our dear friend, the Baron !” exclaimed 
the Chief, as soon as he was out of hearing, “ for the 
most absurd original that exists north of Tweed. I wish 
to heaven I had recommended him to attend the circle 
this evening with a boot-ketch under his arm. I think 
he might have adopted the suggestion, if it had been 
made with suitable gravity.” 

“ And how can you take pleasure in making a man of 
his worth so ridiculous .^” 

“ Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as 
ridiculous as he. Why, do you not see that the man’s 
whole mind is wrapped up in this ceremony ? He has 
heard and’ thought of it since infancy, as the most august 


WAVEHLEY. 


83 


privilege and ceremony in the world ; and I doubt not 
but the expected pleasure of performing it was a princi- 
pal motive with him for taking up arms. Depend upon 
it, had 1 endeavoured to divert him from exposing him- 
self, he would have treated me as an ignorant, conceited 
coxcomb, or perhaps might have taken a fancy to cut my 
throat ; a pleasure which he once proposed to himseli 
upon some point of etiquette, not half so important, in 
his eyes, as this matter of boots or brogues, or whatever 
the caligce shall finally be pronounced by the learned. 
But I must go to head-quarters, to prepare the Prince 
for this extraordinary scene. My information will be 
well taken, for it will give him a hearty laugh at present, 
and put him on his guard against laughing, when it might 
be very mal-a-propos. So, au revoir, my dear Wa- 
verley. 


CHAPTER XIIT. 

The English Prisoner, 

The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed 
from the Chieftain, was to go in quest of the officer whose life 
he had saved. He was guarded along with his compan- 
ions in misfortune, who were very numerous, in a gen- 
tleman’s house near the field of battle. 

On entering the room, where they stood crowded 
together, Waverley easily recognized the object of his 
visit, not only by the peculiar dignity of his appearance, 
but by the appendage of Dugald Mabony, with his bat- 
tle-axe, who had stuck to him from the moment of his 
captivity, as if he had been skewered to his side. This 
close attendance w^as, perhaps, for the purpose of secur- 
ing his promised reward from Edward, but it also opera- 
ted to save the English gentleman from being plundered 
in the scene of general confusion ; for Dugald sagacious- 


84 


WA vkiim:y. 


ly arg^ied, that the amount of the salvage which he 
might be allowed, would be regulated by llie state ol the 
prisoner, when he should deliver liim over to Waverley. 
He hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more 
words than he usually employed, that he had “ keepit ta 
sidier roy haill, and that he wasna a plack the vvaur 
since the fery moment when his honour forbad her to 
gi’e him a bit clamhewit wi’ her Lochaber-axe.” 

Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, 
and, approaching the English officer, expressed his anx- 
iety to do any thing which might contribute to hir. con- 
venience under his present unpleasant circumstances. 

“ I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir,” answered 
the Englishman, “ as to complain of the fortune of war. 
I am only grieved to see those scenes acted in our own 
island, which I have often witnessed elsewhere with com- 
parative indifference.” 

“ Another such day as this,” said Waverley, “ and I 
tiust the cause of your regrets will be removed, and all 
will again return to peace and order.” 

The officer smiled and shook his head. “ I must not 
^orget my situation so far as to attempt a formal confu- 
tation of that opinion ; but, notwithstanding your success 
and the valour which achieved it, you have undertaken a 
task to which your strength appears wholly inadequate.” 

At this moment Fergus pushed into the press. 

“ Come, Edward, come along ; the Prince has gone 
to Pinkie-house for the night ; and we must follow, or 
lose the whole ceremony of the calig(E. Your friend, 
the Baron, has been guilty of a great piece of cruelty ; 
he has insisted upon dragging Baillie Macwheeble out 
to the field of battle. Now, you must know, the Bailiie’s 
greatest horror is an armed Highlander, or a loaded 
gun : and there he stands listening to the Baron’s in- 
structions, concerning tire protest ; ducking his head like 
a sea-gull, at the report of every gun and pistol that our 
idle boys are firing upon the fields ; and undergoing, by 
way of penance, at every symptom of flinching, a se- 
vere rebuke from his patron, who would not admit the 
discharge of a whole battery of cannon, within point- 


WAVERLEY. 


85 


blank distance, as an apology for neglecting a discourse, 
in which the honour of his family is interested.” 

But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture 
so far ?” said Edward. 

“ Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, 
in hopes of making some of our wills ; and the peremp- 
tory commands of the Baron dragged him forward to 
Preston after the battle was over. He complains of 
one or two of our ragamuffins having put him in peril 
of his life, by presenting their pieces at him; but as 
they limited his ransom to an English penny, I don’t 
think we- need trouble the provost-martial upon that 
subject. — So, come along, Waverley.” 

“ Waverley!” said the English officer, with great 
emotion, “ the nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of 
shire?” 

“ The same, sir,” replied our hero, somewhat sur- 
prised at the tone in which he was addressed. 

“ I am at once happy and grieved,” said the prisoner, 
“ to have met with you.” 

“ I am ignorant, sir,” answered Waverley, “ how I 
have deserved so much interest.” 

“ Did your uncle never mention a friend called 
Talbot?” 

“ 1 have heard him talk with great regard of such a 
person,” replied Edward; “a colonel, I believe, in the 
army, and the husband of Lady Emily Blandeville ; 
but I thought Colonel Talbot had been abroad.” 

“I am just returned,” answered the officer; “and 
being in Scotland, thought it my duty to act where 
my services promised to be useful. Yes, Mr. Waver- 
ley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the husband of the lady 
you have named; and I am proud to acknowledge, 
that I owe alike my professional rank and my domes- 
tic happiness to your generous and noble-minded 
relative. Good God ! that I should find his nephew 
in such a dress, and engaged in such a cause ! ” 

“ Sir,” said Fergus, haughtily, “ the dress and cause 
are those of men of birth and honour.” 

18 VOL. II. 


60 


WAVERLKY. 


“ My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion,’ 
said Colonel Talbot ; “ otherwise it were no difficult 
matter to show, that neither courage nor pride of lineage 
can gild a bad cause. But, with Mr. Waverley’s per- 
mission, and yours, sir, if yours also must be asked, I 
would willingly speak a few words with him on affairs 
connected with his own family.’’ 

“ JMr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions.-— You 
will follow me, 1 suppose, to Pinkie,” said Fergus, turn- 
ing to Edward, “ wlien you have finished your discourse 
with this new acquaintance So saying, the Chief of 
Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather more than 
his usual air of haughty assumption, and left the apart- 
ment. 

The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel 
Talbot the freedom of adjourning to a large garden, be- 
longing to his place of confinement. They walked a 
few paces in silence, Colonel Talbot apparently studying 
how to open what he had to say ; at length he addressed 
Edward. 

“ Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life ; and 
yet I would to God that 1 had lost it, ere 1 had found 
you wearing the uniform and cockade of these men.” 

“ I forgive your reproach. Colonel Talbot ; it is well 
meant, and your education and prejudices render it nat- 
ural. But there is nothing extraordinary in finding a 
man, whose honour has been publicly and unjustly assail- 
ed, in the situation which promised most fair to afford 
him satisfaction on his calumniators.” 

“ I should rather say, in the situation most likely to 
confirm the reports which they have circulated,” said 
Colonel Talbot, “ by following the very line of conduct 
ascribed you. Are you aware, Mr. Waverley, of the 
infinite distress, and even danger, which your present 
conduct has occasioned to your nearest relative 
Danger !” 

“ Yes, sir, danger. When I left England, your uncle 
and father had been obliged to find bail to answer a 
charge of treason, to which they were only admitted by 
ihe exertion of the most powerful interest. I came down to 

jt 


WAVERLKT* 


8 ? 


Scotland, with the sole^ purpose of rescuing you from 
the gulf into which you have precipitated yourself; not 
can I estimate the consequences to your family, of your 
having openly joined the rebellion, since the very sus- 
picion of your intention was so perilous to them. Most 
deeply do 1 regret, that I did not meet you before this 
last and fatal error.” 

“ I am really ignorant,” said Waverley, in a tone of 
reserve, “ why Colonel Talbot should have taken so much 
trouble on my account.” 

‘‘ Mr. Waverley,” answered Talbot, “ I am dull at 
apprehending irony ; and therefore I shall answer your 
words according to their plain meaning. 1 am indebted 
to your uncle for benefits greater than those which a son ** 
owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty of a 
son ; and as I know there is no manner in which I can re- 
quite his kindness so well as by serving you, I wdll serve 
you, if possible, whether you will permit me or no. The 
personal obligation which you have this day laid me under, 
(although, in common estimation, as great as one human 
being can bestow on another,) adds nothing to my zeal 
on your behalf ; nor can that zeal be abated by any cool- 
ness with which you may please to receive it.” 

“ Your intentions maybe kind, sir,” said Waverley, dry- 
ly, “ but your language is harsh, or at least peremptory.” 

‘‘ On my return to England,” continued Colonel Tal- 
bot, “ after long absence, I found your uncle. Sir 
Everard Waverley, in the custody of a king’s mes- 
senger, in consequence of the suspicion brought upon 
him by your conduct. He is my oldest friend — how 
often shall 1 repeat it — my best benefactor ! he sacrificed 
his own views of happiness to mine — he never uttered a 
word, he never harboured a thought, that benevolence 
itself might not have thought or spoken. 1 found this 
man in confinement, rendered harsher to him by his habits 
of life, his natural dignity of feeling, and — forgive me, 
Mr. Waverley, — by the cause through which this calam- 
ity had come* upon him. 1 cannot disguise from you my 
feelings upon this occasion ; they were most painfully 
unfavourable to you. Having, by my family interesu 


BS 


WAVKRI.E Y. 


which you probably know is not inconsiderable, sLcceed- 
ed in obtaining Sir Everard’s release, I set out for Scot- 
land. 1 saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whcse fate alone is 
sufficient to render this insurrection for ever execrable. 
In the course of conversation with him, I found that, from 
late circumstances, from a re-examination of the persons 
engaged in the mutiny, and from his original good opin- 
ion of your character, he was much softened towards 
you ; and I doubted not, that if 1 could be so fortunate 
as to discover you, all might yet be well. But this un- 
natural rebellion has ruined all. 

“ I have, for the first time, in a long and active mili- 
tary life, seen Britons disgrace themselves by a panic 
flight, and that before a foe without either arms or disci- 
pline : And now I find the heir of my dearest friend — 
the son, I may say, of his affections — sharing a triumph, 
for which he ought the first to have blushed. Why should 
I lament Gardiner! his lot was happy, compared to mine.” 

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot’s man- 
ner, such a mixture of military pride and manly sorrow, 
and the news of Sir Everard’s imprisonment was told in 
so deep a tone of feeling, that Edward stood mortified, 
abashed, and distressed, in presence of the prisoner, who 
owed to him his life not many hours before. He w^as not 
sorry when Fergus interrupted their conference a second 
time. 

“ His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley’s 
attendance.” Colonel Talbot threw upon Edward a re- 
proachful glance, which did not escape the quick eye of 
the Highland Chief. “ His immediate attendance,” he 
repeated, with considerable emphasis. Waverley turned 
again towards the Colonel. 

“ We shall meet again,” he said ; “ in the meanwhile, 

every possible accommodation” 

1 desire none,” said the Colonel ; “ let me fare like 
the meanest of those brave men, who, on this day of ca- 
lamity, have preferred wounds and captivity to flight ; J 
would almost exchange places with one of those wliohave 
fallen, to know that my words have made a suitable im- 
pression on your mind.” 


WAVERLEY. 


89 


Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured,” said 
Fergus to the Highland officer, who commanded the 
guard over tlie prisoners ; “ it is the Prince’s particular 
command ; he is a prisoner of the utmost importance.” 

“ But let him want no accommodation suitable to his 
rank,” said VVaverley. 

“ Consistent always with secure custody,” reiterated 
Fergus. The officer signified his acquiescence in both 
commands, and Edward followed Fergus to the garden- 
gate, where Callum Beg, with three saddle-horses, await- 
ed them. Turning his head, he saw Colonel Talbot re- 
conducted to his place of confinement by a file of High- 
landers ; he lingered on the threshold of the door, and 
made a signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if 
enforcing the language he had held towards him. 

“ Horses,” said F ergus, as he mounted, “ are now 
as plenty as blackberries ; every man may have them 
for the catching. Come, let Callum adjust your stirrups, and 
let us to Pinkie-house,20as fast as these ci-devant dra- 
goon-horses choose to carry us.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Rather Unimportant. 

“ I WAS turned back,” said Fergus to Edward, as they 
galloped from Preston to Pinkie-house, “ by a message 
from the Prince. But, I suppose, you know the value of 
this most noble Colonel Talbot as a prisoner. He is held 
one of the best officers among the red-coats ; a special 
friend and favourite of the Elector himself, and of that 
dreadful hero, the Duke of Cumberland, who has been 
summoned from his triumphs at Fontenoy, to come over 
and devour us poor Highlanders alive. Has he been telJ- 

VOL. II. 


90 


WAVEIILKY. 


ing you liow the bells of St. James’s ring ? Not ‘ turn again 
VViiiitingtoiij’ like those of Bow, in the days of yore V' 

“ Fergus!” said Waveriey, with a rcproacliful look. 

“ Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you,” answerec 
the ciiief of Mac-ivor, “ you are blown about with every 
wijid of doctrine. Here have we gained a victory, unpar- 
alleled in history — and your behaviour is praised by every 
living mortal to the skies — and the Prince is eager to thank 
you in person — and all our beauties of the While Rose are 
pulling caps for you, — and you, the preux chevalier of the 
day, are stooping on your horse’s neck like a butter-woman 
riding to market, and looking as black as a funeral !” 

“ 1 am sorry for poor Colonel Gardiner’s death : he 
was once very kind to rne.” 

“ Why, then, be sorry for five minutes, and then be 
glad again ; his chancje to-day may be ours to-morrow ; 
and what does it signify The next best thing to victory 
is iionourable death, but it is a pis-aller, and one would 
rather a foe had it than one’s self.” 

“ But Colonel Talbot has informed me that my father 
and uncle are both imprisoned by government on my 
account.” 

“ We’ll put in bail, my boy ; old Andrew Ferrara 
shall lodge his security ;^^and I should like to see him 
put to justify it in Westminster-Hall !” 

“ Nay, they are already at liberty, upon bail of a more 
civic disposition.” 

“ Then why is thy noble spirit cast down, Edward : 
Dost think that the Elector’s ministers are such doves as to 
set their enemies at liberty at this critical moment, if they 
could or durst confine and punish them f Assure thy- 
self that either they have no charge against your rela- 
tions on which they can continue their imprisonment, or 
else they are afraid of our friends, the jolly cavaliers oi 
Old England. At any rate, you need not be apprehen- 
sive upon their account ; and we will find some means 
of conveying to them assurances of your safety.” 

Edward was silenced, but not satisfied, with these 
reasons. He had now been more than once shocked at 


WAVERLEY. 


91 


the small degree of sympathy Avhich Fergus exhibited 
for the feelings even of ihose whom he loved, if they 
did not correspond with his own mood at the time, and 
more especially if they thwarted him while earnest in a 
lavourite pursuit. Fergus sometimes indeed observed 
that he had offended Waverley, but, always intent upon 
some favourite plan or project of his own, lie was never 
sufficiently aware of the extent or duration of his dis- 
pleasure, so that the reiteration of these petty offences 
somewhat cooled the volunteer’s extreme attaciiment to 
his officer. 

The Chevalier received Waverley with his usual fa- 
vour, and paid him many compliments on his distinguish- 
ed bravery. He then took him apart, made many inqui- 
ries concerning Colonel Talbot, and when he had received 
all the information which Edward was able to give con- 
cerning him and his connexions, he jiroceeded, — “ I 
cannot but think, Mr. Waverley, that since this gentle- 
man is so particularly connected with our worthy and 
excellent friend. Sir Everard Waverley, and since his 
lady is of the house of Blandeville, whose devotion to 
the true and loyal principles of the Church of England 
is so generally known, the Colonel’s own private senti- 
ments cannot be unfavourable to us, whatever mask he 
may have assumed to accommodate himself to the times.” 

“ If I am to judge from the language he this day held 
to me, I am under the necessity of differing widely from 
your Royal Highness.” 

“ Well, it is worth making atrial at least. I therefore 
intrust you with the charge of Colonel Talbot, with ))ower 
to act concerning him as you think most advisable ; and 
I hope you will find means of ascertaining what are his 
real dispositions tow^ards our Royal Father’s restoration.” 

“ I am convinced,” said Waverley, bowing, “ that if 
Colonel Talbot chooses to grant his parole, it may be 
securely depended upon : but if he refuses it, 1 trust 
your Royal Highness will devolve on some other person 
than the nephew of his friend, the task of laying hue 
under the necessary restraint.” 


92 


AVAVKItLcii 


“ I will trust him wiili no person but you,” said the 
Prince, smiling, but peremptorily repeating his mandate j 
“it is of imponance to my service that there should ap- 
pear to be a goofi intelligence between you, even if yoi\ 
are unable to gain his confidence in earnest. You will 
therefore receive him into your quarters, and in case he 
declines giving his parole, you must apply for a propel 
guard. J beg you will go about tliis directly. We re- 
turn to Edinburgh to-morrow.” 

Being thus remanded to the vicinity of Preston, Wa- 
verley lost the Baron of Bradwardine’s solemn act of 
homage. So little, however, was he at this time in love 
with vanity, that he had quite forgotten the ceremony in 
which Fergus had laboured to engage his curiosity. But, 
next day a formal gazette was circulated, containing a 
detailed account of the Battle of Gladsmuir, as the 
Highlanders chose to denominate their victory. It con- 
cluded with an account of the Court afterward held by 
the Chevalier at Pinkie-house, which contained this, 
amour: other high-flown descriptive paragraphs : 

“ Sin'ie that fatal treaty which annihilates Scotland as 
an independent nation, it has not been our happiness to 
see her princes receive, and her nobles discharge, those 
acts of feudal homage, which, founded upon the splendid 
actions of Scottish valour, recall the memory of her early 
history, with the manly and chivalrous simplicity of the 
ties which united to the crown the homage of the war- 
riors by whom it was repeatedly upheld and defended 
But on the evening of the 20th, our memories were 
refreshed with one of those ceremonies which belong to 
the ancient days of Scotland’s glory. After the circle 
was formed, Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of that ilk, 
colonel in the service, &ic. See. &lc. came before the 
Prince, attended by IMr. D. Macwheeble, the baillie of 
his ancient barony of Bradwardine, (who, we understand, 
has been lately named a commissary,) and, under form 
of instrument, claimed permission to perform, to tlie 
person of his Royal Highness, as representing his father 
the service used and wont, for which, under a charter of 


WAVERLEY, 


93 


Robert Bruce, (of which the original was produced and 
ms[)ected by the Masters of his Royal Highness’s chan- 
cery for the tinie being) the claimant held the barony of 
Bradwardine, and lands of Tuily-Veolan. His claim 
being admitted and registered, his Royal Highness hav- 
ing placed his foot upon a cushion, the Baron of Brad- 
wardine, kneeling r.pon his right knee, proceeded to undo 
tne latciiet of the brogue, or low-heeled Highland shoe, 
which our gallant young hero wears in compliment to 
his brave followers. When this was performed, his 
Royal Highness declared the ceremony completed ; and, 
embracing the gallant veteran, protested that nothing but 
compliance with an ordinance of Robert Bruce, could 
have induced him to receive even the symbolical perfor- 
mance of a menial office from hands which had fought 
so bravely to put the crown upon the head of his father. 
The Baron of Bradwardine then took instruments in the 
hands of Mr. Commissary IMacwheeble, bearing, that all 
points and circumstances of the act of homage had been 
rite et solennUer acta et peracta ; and a corresponding 
entry was made in the protocol of the Lord High Cham- 
berlain, and in the record of Chancery. We understand 
that it is in comtemplation of his Royal Highness, when 
his Majesty’s pleasure can be known, to raise Colonel 
Bradwardine to the peerage, by the title of Viscount 
Bradwardine, of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and 
that, in the meanwhile his Royal Highness, in his father’s 
name and authority, has been pleased to grant him an 
honourable augmentation to his paternal coat of arms, 
being a budget or boot-jack, disposed saltier-wise with a 
naked broad-sword, to be borne in the dexter cantle of 
the shield ; and, as an additional motto, on a scroll be- 
neath, the words, ‘ Draw and draw off.’ ” 

“ Were it not for the recollection of Fergus’s raillery,” 
thought Waverley to himself, when he had ])erused this 
long and grave document, how very tolerably would 
all this sound, and how little should I have thought of 
connecting it with any ludicrous idea ! Well, after all, 
every thing has its fair, as well as its seamy side’ ; and 


94 


* WAVERLET. 


truly I do not see wliy the Baron’s hoot-jack may not 
stand as fiiir in heraldry as the water-buckets, wagons,, 
cart-wheels, plough-socks, sluitlles, candlesticks, and 
other ordinaries, conveying ideas ol any thing save chiv- 
alry, \vhich appear in the arms of some of our most an- 
cient gentry.’’ — Ttiis, however, is an epsiode in respect 
to the principal story. 

When Waverley returned to Preston, and rejoined 
Colonel Talbot, he found him recovered from the strong 
and obvious emotions with which a concurrence of un- 
pleasing events had aiFected hint. He had regained 
his natural manner, which was that of an English gen- 
tleman and soldier, manly, open, and generous, but not 
unsusceptible of prejudice against those of a dilTercnt 
country, or who opposed him in political tenets. When 
Waverley acquainted Colonel Talbot with the Chevalier’s 
purpose to commit him to his charge, “ I did not think 
to have owed so much obligation to that young gentle- 
man,” he said, “ as is implied in this destination. 1 can 
at least cheerfully join in the prayer of the honest pres- 
byterian clergyman, that, as he has come among us seek- 
ing an earthly crown, his labours may be speedily reward- 
ed with a heavenly one.^^ I shall willingly give my parole 
not to attempt an escape without your knowledge, since, 
in fact, it was to meet you that I came to Scotland ; and 
I am glad it has happened even under this predicament. 
But I suppose we shall be but a short time together. 
Your Chevalier, (that is a name we may both give to him) 
with his plaids and blue caps, will, 1 presume, be contin- 
uing his crusade southward 

“ Not as I hear ; I believe the army makes some stay 
in Edinburgh, to collect reinforcements.” 

“ And to besiege the Castle ?” said Talbot, smiling sar- 
castically. “Well, unless my old commander, General 
Preston turn false metal, or the Castle sink into the North 
Loch, events which 1 deem equally probable, 1 think we 
shall have some time to make up our acquaintance. I 
have a guess that this gallant Chevalier has a design that 
I should be your proselyte, and as I wish you to be mine 


A V F/RH'.Y. 


95 


lliere cannot be a rnore^fair proposal, than to afford ua 
fair conference together. But, as I spoke to-day under 
the influence of feelings I rarely give way to, I hope you 
will excuse my entering again upon controversy, till we 
are somewhat better acquainted.’^ 


CHAPTER XV. 

Intrigues of Love and Politics. 

It is not necessary to record in these pages the tri- 
umphant entrance of the Chevalier into Edinburgh after 
the decisive affair of Preston. One circumstance, how- 
ever, may be noticed, because it. illustrates the high spirit 
of Flora IMac-lvor. The Highlanders, by whom the 
Prince was surrounded, in the license and extravagance 
of this joyful moment, fired their pieces repeatedly, and 
one of these having been accidentally loaded with ball, 
the bullet grazed the young lady’s temple as she waved 
her handkerchief from a balcony .^3 Fergus who beheld 
the accident was at her side in an instant ; and, on see- 
ing that the wound was trifling, he drew his broad-sword, 
with the purpose of rushing down upon the man by whose 
carelessness she had incurred so much danger, when, 
holding him by the plaid, “ Do not harm the poor fel- 
low,” she cried, “ for Heaven’s sake do not harm him ! 
but thank God with me that the accident happened to 
Flora Mac-Jvor ; for had it befallen a whig, they would 
have pretended that the shot was fired on purpose.” 

Waverley escaped the alarm which this accident would 
have occasioned to him, as he was unavoidably delayed 
by the necessity of accompanying Colonel Talbot to 
Edinburgh. 

They performed the journey together on horseback, 
and for some time, as if to sound each other’s feelings 


WAVERLEY. 


yb 

and sentiments, they conversed upon general and ordi 
nary topics. 

When Waverley again entered upon the subject which 
he had most at heart, the situation, namely,of his father 
and his uncle. Colonel Talbot seemed now rather desir- 
ous to alieviate than to aggravate his anxiety. This ap- 
peared particularly to be the case when he heard Wa- 
verley’s history, which he did not scruple to confide to 
him. “ And so,” said the Colonel, “ there has been 
no malice prepense, as lawyers, 1 think, term it, in this 
rash step of yours ; and you have been trepanned into 
the service of this Italian knight-erranl, by a few civil 
speeches from him and one or two of his Highland re- 
cruiting sergeants t Jt is sadly foolish, to be sure, but not 
nearly so bad as 1 was led to expect. However, you 
cannot desert, even from the Pretender, at the present 
moment, — that seems impossible. But I have little doubt 
that, in4he dissensions incident to this heterogeneous mass 
of wild and desperate men, some opportunity may arise, 
by availing yourself of which, you may extricate yourself 
honourably from your rash engagement before the bubble 
burst. If this can be managed, 1 would have you go to 
a place of safety in Flanders, which 1 shall point out. 
And 1 think 1 can secure your pardon from government 
after a few months residence abroad ” 

“ I cannot permit you. Colonel Talbot,” answered Wa- 
verley, “ to speak of any plan which turnson my deserting 
an enterprize in which I may have engaged hastily, but cer- 
tainly voluntarily, and with the purpose of abiding the issue. 

“ Well,” said Colonel Talbot, smiling, “ leave me my 
thoughts and hopes at least at liberty, if not my speech 
But have you never examined your mysterious packet ?” 

“ It is in my baggage,” replied Edward ; “ we shall 
find it in Edinburgh.” 

In Edinburgh they soon arrived. Waverley’s quar- 
ters bad been assigned to him, by the Prince’s express 
orders, in a handsome lodging, wliere there was accom- 
dation for Colonel Talbot. His first business was to ex- 
amine his portmanteau, and, after a very short search 
out tumbled the expected packet. Waverley opened it 


WAVERJ.EY. 


97 


eagerly. Under a blank cover, simply addressed to E. 
Waverley, Esq. he Ibiind a number of open letters. The 
uppermost were two from Colonel Gardiner, addressed to 
himself. The earliest in date was a kind and gentle re- 
monstrance for neglect of the writer’s advice, respecting 
the disposal of his time during his leave of absence, the 
renewal of which, he reminded Captain Waverley, would 
speedily expire. “ Indeed,” the letter proceeded, 

“ had it been otherwise, the news from abroad, and my 
instructions from the War-Office, must have compelled 
me to recall it, as there is great danger, since the disas- ^ 
ter in Flanders, both of foreign invasion and insurrection 
among the disaffected at home. I therefore entreat you 
will repair, as soon as possible, to the head-quarters of 
the regiment ; and I am concerned to add, that this is 
still the more necessary, as there is some discontent in 
your troop, and I postpone inquiry into particulars until 
1 can have the advantage of your assistance.” 

The second letter, dated eight days later, was in such 
a style as might have been expected from the Colonel’s 
receiving no answer to the first. It reminded Waverley 
of his duty, as a man of honour, an officer, and a Briton ; 
took notice of the increasing dissatisfaction of his men ; 
and that some of them had been heard to hint, that their 
Captain encouraged and approved of their mutinous be- 
haviour ; and, finally, the writer expressed the utmost 
regret and surprise that he had not obeyed his commands 
by repairing to head-quarters, reminded him that his 
leave of absence had been recalled, and conjured him, 
in a style in which paternal remonstrance was mingled 
with military authority, to redeem his error by immedi- 
ately joining his regiment. “ That I may be certain,” 
concluded the letter, “ that this actually reaches you, I 
despatch it by corporal Tims, of your troop, with orders 
to deliver it into your own hand.” 

Upon reading these letters, Waverley, with great bit- 
terness of feeling, was compelled to make the amende 
honourable to the memory of the brave and excellent 

VOL. II. 


93 


WAVEHLET. 


writer; for surely, as Colonel Gardiner must have had 
every reason to conclude they had come safely to hand, 
(ess could not follow, in their being neglected, than that 
third and final summons, which Waverley actually receiv- 
ed at Glennaquoich, though too late to obey it. And his 
being superseded, in consequence of his apparent neg- 
lect of this last command, was so far from being a harsh 
or severe proceeding, that it was plainly inevitable. The 
next letter he unfolded was from the major of the regi- 
ment, acquainting him that a report, to the disadvantage 
of his reputation, was public in the country, stating, that 
one INIr. Falconer of Ballihopple, or some such name, 
had proposed, in his presence, a treasonable toast, which 
be permitted to pass in silence, although it was so gross 
an afiront to the royal family, that a gentleman in com- 
pany, not remarkable for his zeal for government, had 
nevertheless taken the matter up, and that, supposing the 
account true. Captain Waverley had thus suffered another, 
comparatively unconcerned, to resent an affront directed 
against him personally .as an officer, and to go out with 
the person by whom it was offered. The Major con- 
cluded, that no one of Captain Waverley ’s brother officers 
could believe this scandalous story, but that it was neces 
sarily their joint opinion that his own honour, equally 
with that of the regiment, depended upon its being in- 
stantly contradicted by his authority, he. he. he. 

“ What do you think of all this said Colonel Tal- 
bot, to whom Waverley handed the letters after he had 
perused them. 

“ Think ! it renders thought impossible. It is enough 
to drive me mad.” 

“ Be calm, my young friend, let us sec what are thes3 
dirty scrawls that follow.” 

The first was addressed, “ For Mr. W. Ruffen. 
These.” — “ Dear sur, sum of our yong gulpins will not 
bite, thof 1 tuold them you shoed me the squoire’s owm 
seel. But Tims will deliver you the lettrs as desired, 
and tell ould Addem he gave them to squoire’s bond, as 
to be sure yours is the same, and shall be ready for 'signal 


WA\TiHLEY. 


99 


and hoy for Hoy Church and Sachefrel, as fadur sings 
at liarvest-whoine. 

Yours, deer Sur, H. H.” 

“ Poscriff. Do’e tell snuoire we longs to heer from 
him, and has dootings about his not writing himsell, and 
Lifetenant Bottler is smoky.” 

“ This Ruffen, I suppose, then, is your Donald of the 
Cavern, who has intercepted your letters, and carried on 
a correspondence with the poor devil Houghton, as it 
under your authority?” 

“ It seems too true. But who can Addem be .?” 

“ Possibly Adam, for poor Gardiner, a sort of pun on 
his name.” 

I'lie other letters were to the same purpose, and they 
soon received yet more complete light upon Donald 
Bean’s machinations. 

John Hodges, one of Waverley’s servants, who had 
remained witli the regiment, and had been taken at Pres- 
ton, now made his appearance. He had sought out his 
master, with the purpose of again entering his service. 
From this fellow they learned, that some time after Wa~ 
verley had gone from the head-cjuarters of the regiment, 
a pedlar, called Rutliven, Ruifen, or Rivane, known 
among the soldiers by the name of Wily Will, had made 
frequent visits to the town of Dundee. He appeared to pos- 
sess plenty of money, sold his commodities very cheap, 
seemed always willing to treat his friends at the ale-house, 
and easily ingratiated himself with many of Waverley’s 
troop, particularly Serjeant Houghton, and one Tims, also 
a non-commissioned oHicer. To these he unfolded, in 
Waverley’s name, a plan for leaving the regiment and 
joining him in the Highlands, where report said the clans 
had already taken arms in great numbers. The men, 
who had been educated as Jacobites, so far as they had 
any opinion at all, and who knew their landlord. Sir 
Everard, had always been supposed to hold such tenets, 
easily fell into the snare. That Waverley was at a dis- 
tance in the Highlands, was received as a sufficient ex- 


100 


WAYERLEY. 


cuse for transmitting his letters through the medium o( 
the pedlar ; and tlie sight of liis well-known seal seemed 
to authenticate the negotiations in his name, where writing 
might have been dangerous. The cabal, however, began 
to take air, from the premature mutinous language of 
those concerned. Wily Will justified his appellative ; 
for, after suspicion arose, he was seen no more. When 
the Gazette appeared, in which Waverley was supersed- 
ed, great part of his troop broke out into actual mutiny, 
but were surrounded and disarmed by the rest of the 
regiment. In consequence of the sentence of a court- 
martial, Houghton and Tims were condemned to be shot, 
but afterwards permitted to cast lots for life. Houghton, 
the survivor, showed much penitence, being convinced, 
from the rebukes and explanations of Colonel Gardiner, that 
he had really engaged in a very heinous crime. It is re- 
markable, that as soon as the poor fellow was satisfied 
of this, he became also convinced that the instigator had 
acted without authority from Edward, saying, “ if it was 
dishonourable and against Old England, the squire could 
know nought about it : he never did, or thought to do, 
any thing dishonourable, no more didn’t Sir Everard, nor 
none of them afore him, and in that belief he would live 
and die that RufFen had done it all of his own head.” 

The strength of conviction with which he expressed 
himself upon this subject, as well as his assurances that 
the letters intended for Waverley had been delivered to 
Ruthven, made that revolution in Colonel Gardiner’s opin- 
ion which he expressed to Talbot. 

The reader has long since understood that Donald 
Bean Lean played the part of tempter on this occasion. 
His motives were shortly these. Of an active and in- 
triguing spirit, he had been long employed as a subaltern 
agent and spy by those in the confidence of the Cheva- 
lier, to an extent beyond what was suspected even by 
Fergus Mac-Ivor, whom, though obliged to him for pro- 
tection, he regarded with fear and dislike. To success 
in this political department, he naturally looked for rais* 
ing himself by some bold stroke above his present haz- 


WAVERLEY. 


101 


ardous and precarious trade of rapine. He was partic- 
ularly employed in learning the strength of the regiments 
in Scotland, the cliaracter of the ofhceis, &.c. and had 
long had his eye upon VVaverley’s trooj), as open to temp- 
tation. Donald even believed that VVaverley iiiinseif 
was at bottom in the Stuart interest, which seemed con- 
firmed by his long visit to the Jacobite Baron of Brad- 
wardine. When, therefore, he came to his cave with 
one of Glennaquoich’s attendants, the robber, who could 
never appreciate his real motive, which was mere curi- 
osity, was so sanguine as to hope that his own talents 
were to be employed in some intrigue of consequence, 
under the auspices of this wealthy young Englishman. 
Nor was he undeceived by vVaverley’s neglecting all 
hints and openings afforded for explanation. His con- 
duct passed for prudent reserve, and somewhat piqued 
Donald Bean, who, supposing himself left out of a se- 
cret w'here confidence promised to be advantageous, de- 
termined to have his share in the drama, whether a reg- 
ular part were assigned him or not. For this purpose, 
during Waverley’s sleep, he possessed himself of his 
seal, as a token to be used to any of the troopers whom 
he might discover totbe possessed of the captain’s confi- 
dence. His first journey to Dundee, the tow n where the 
regiment was quartered, undeceived him in his original 
supposition, but opened to him a new field of action. 
He knew there w'ould be no service so well rewarded by 
the friends of the Chevalier, as seducing a part of the 
regular army to his standard. For this purpose he 
opened the machinations Avith which the reader is already 
acquainted, and wdiich form a clue to all the intricacies 
and obscurities of the narrative previous to Waverley’s 
leaving Glennaqnoich. 

By Colonel Talbot’s advice, Waverley declined de- 
taining in his service the lad whose evidence had thrown 
additional light on these intrigues. He represented to 
him that it w'ould be doing the man an injury to engage 
him in a desperate undertaking, and that, whatever should 
VOL. il. 


102 


WAVERLEY* 


happen, his evidence would go some length, at least, ii< 
explaining the circumstances under wliich VVaveriey him- 
self had embarked in it. Waverley therefore wrote a 
short slate of what had happened to his uncle and his 
father, cautioning them, however, in the present circum- 
stances not to attempt to answer his letter.' Talbot then 
gave the young man a letter to the commander of one of 
the English vessels of war cruizing in the frith, request- 
ing him to put the bearer ashore at Berwick, with a pass 

to proceed to shire. He was then furnished with 

money to make an expeditious journey, and directed to 
get on board the ship by means of bribing a fishing-boat, 
which, as they afterwards learned, he easily effected. 

Tired of the attendance of Galium Beg, who, he 
thought, had some disposition to act as a spy on his mo- 
tions, Waverley hired as a servant a simple Edinburgh 
swain, who had mounted the white cockade in a fit of 
spleen and jealousy, because Jenny Jop had danced a 
whole night with Corporal Bullock of the Fusileers. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Intrigues of Society arid Love. - 

Colonel Talpot became more kindly in his demean- 
our towards Waverley after the confidence he had re- 
posed in him, and as they were necessarily much together, 
the character of the Colonel rose in Waverley’s estima- 
tion. There seemed at first something harsh in his 
strong exj)ressions of dislike and censure, although no 
one was in the general case more open to conviction. 
The habit of autliority also had given his manners some 
peremptory hardness, notwithstanding the polish which 
they liad received from his intimate acquaintance with the 
higher circles. As a specimen of the military character. 


WAVERLEY. 


103 


he differed from all whom Waverley had as yet seen. 
The soldiership of the Baron of Bradwardine was mark- 
ed by pedantry ; that of Major Melville by a sort of 
martinet attention to the minutias and technicalities of 
discipline, rather suitable to one who was to manoeuvre 
a battalion, than to him who was to command an army ; 
the military spirit of Fergus was so much warped and 
blended with his plans and political views, that it was less 
that of a soldier than of a petty sovereign. But Col- 
onel Talbot was in every point the English soldier. His 
whole soul was devoted to the service of his king and 
country, without feeling any pride in knowing, the theory 
of his art with the Baron, or its practical minutiae with 
the Major, or in applying his science to his own particu- 
lar plans of ambition, like the Chieftain of Glennaquoich. 
Added to this, he was a man of extended knowledge and 
cultivated taste, although strongly tinged, as we have al- 
ready observed, with those prejudices which are pecu- 
liarly English. 

The character of Colonel Talbot dawned upon Edward 
by degrees ; fer the delay of the Highlanders in the fruit- 
less siege of Edinburgh Castle occupied several weeks, 
during which Waverley had little to do, excepting to 
seek such amusement as society afforded. He would 
willingly have persuaded his new friend to become ac- 
quainted with some of his former intimates. But the 
Colonel, after one or two visits, shook his head, and de- 
clined farther experiment. Indeed he w^ent farther, and 
characterized the Baron as the most intolerable formal 
pedant he had ever had the misfortune to meet with, and 
the Chief of Glennaquoich as a Frenchified Scotchman, 
possessing all the cunning and plausibility of the nation 
where he was educated, with the proud, vindictive, and 
turbulent humour of that of his birth. “ If the devil,” 
he said, “had sought out an agent expressly for the pur- 
pose of embroiling this miserable country, 1 do not think 
ho could find a better than such a fellow as this, whose 
temper seems equally active, supple, and mischievous, 
and who is followed, and implicitly obeyed, by a gang of 


104 


WAVE RLE Y. 


such cut-throats as those whom you are pleased to ad- 
mire so much.” 

The ladies of the party did not escape his censure. 
He allowed that Flora ]\Iac-lvor was a fine woman, and 
Rose Bradwardine a pretty girl. But he alleged that 
the former destroyed the effect of her beauty by an af- 
fectation of the grand airs which she had probably seen 
practised in the mock court of St. Germains. As for 
Rose Bradwardine, he said it was impossible for any 
mortal to admire such a little uninformed thing, whose 
small portion of education was as ill-adapted to her sex 
or youth, as if she had appeared with one ol’ her father’s 
old campaign-coats upon her person for her sole garment. 
Now much of this was mere spleen and prejudice in the 
excellent Colonel, with whom the white cockade on the 
breast, the white rose in the hair, and the Mac at the be- 
ginning of a name, would have made a devil out of an 
angel ; and indeed he himself jocularly allowed, that he 
could not have endured Venus herself, if she had been 
announced in a drawing-room by the name of Miss Mac- 
Jupiter. 

Waverley, it may easily be believed, looked upon these 
young ladies with very different eyes. During the peri- 
od of the siege, he paid them almost daily visits, although 
he observed with regret that his suit made as little pro- 
gress in the affections of the former, as the arms of the 
Chevalier in subduing the fortress. She maintained with 
rigour the rule she had laid down of treating him with 
indifference, without either affecting to avoid him or to 
ahun intercourse with him. Every word, every look, 
was strictly regulated to accord with her system, and 
neither the dejection of Waverley, nor the anger which 
Fergus scarcely suppressed, could extend Flora’s atten- 
tion to Edward beyond that which the most ordinary 
politeness demanded. On the other hand. Rose Brad- 
wardine gradually rose in Waverley’s opinion. Me had 
several opportunities of remarking, that as her extreme ti- 
midity wore off, her manners assumed a higher character; 
that the ae^itaiing circumstances of the stormy time seemed 


WAVERLET. 


105 


to call forth a certain dignity of feeling and expression 
tvhich he had not formerly observed ; and that she omit- 
ted no opj3ortunity within her reach to extend her know- 
ledge and refine her taste. Flora Mac-lvor called Rose 
her pupil, and was attentive to assist her in her studies, 
and to fashion both her taste and understanding. It 
might have been remarked by a very close observer, that 
in the presence of Waverley she was much rno're desir- 
ous to exhibit her friend’s excellences than her own. But 
I must request of the reader to suppose, that this kind 
and disinterested purpose was concealed by the most 
cautious delicacy, studiously shunning the most distant 
approach to affectation. So that it was as unlike the 
usual exhibition of one pretty woman affecting to proner 
another, as the friendship of David and Jonathan might 
be to the intimacy of two Bond-street ‘loungers. The 
fact is, that though the effect was felt, the cause could 
hardly be observed. Each of the ladies, like two ex- 
cellent actresses, were perfect in their parts, and perform- 
ed them to the delight of the audience ; and such being 
the case, it was almost impossible to discover that the 
elder constantly ceded to her friend that which was most 
suitable to her talents. 

But to Waverley, Rose Bradwardine possessed an 
attraction which few^ men can resist, from the marked 
interest which she look in every thing that affected him. 
She was too young and too inexperienced to estimate the 
full force of the constant attention which she paid to him. 
Her father was too abstractedly immersed in learned and 
military discussions to observe her partiality, and Flora 
Mac-lvor did not alarm her by remonstrance, because she 
saw in this line of conduct the most probable chance of her 
friend securing at length a return of affection. The truth 
;s, that in her first conversation after their meeting. Rose 
had discovered the state of her mind to that acute and 
intelligent friend, although she was not herself aware ol 
it. From that time. Flora was not only determined up- 
on the final rejection of Waverley’s addresses, but be- 
came anxious that they should, if possible, be transfer- 


106 


WAVERLEY. 


red to her friend. Nor was she less interested in this 
plan, though her brother had from time to lime talked, 
as between jest and earnest, of paying his suit to Miss 
Bradwardine. She knew that Fergus had the true con- 
tinental latitude of opinion respecting the institution of 
marriage, and would not have given his hand to an an- 
gel, unless for the purpose of strengthening his alliances, 
and increasing his influence and wealth. The Baron’s 
whim of transferring his estate to the distant heir male, 
instead of his own daughter, was therefore likely to be 
an insurmountable obstacle to his entertaining any seri- 
ous thoughts of Rose Bradwardine. Indeed, Fergus’s 
brain was a perpetual work-shop of scheme and intrigue, 
of every possible kind and description ; while, like many 
a mechanic of more ingenuity than steadiness, he would 
often unexpectedly, and without any apparent motive, 
abandon one plan, and go earnestly to work upon another, 
which was either fresh from the forge of his imagination, 
or had at some former period been flung aside half fin- 
ished. It was therefore often difficult to guess what line 
of conduct he might finally adopt upon any given occasion. 

Although Flora was sincerely attached to her brother, 
whose high energies might indeed have commanded her 
admiration, even without the ties which bound them to- 
gether, she was by no means blind to his faults, which 
she considered as dangerous to the hopes of any woman, 
who should found her ideas of a happy marriage in the 
peaceful enjoyment of domestic society, and the ex- 
change of mutual and engrossing affection. The real 
disposition of Waverley, on the other hand, notwithstand- 
ing his dreams of tented fields and military honour, seem- 
ed exclusively domestic. He asked and received no 
share in the busy scenes which were constantly going on 
around him, and was rather annoyed than interested by 
the discussion of contending claims, rights, and interests, 
which often passed in his presence. All this pointed 
him out as the person formed to make happy a spirit like 
that of Rose, which corresponded with his own. 


WAVERIEY. 


107 


She remarked this point in Waverley’s character one 
day while slie sat with iMiss Bradwardine. “ idis genius 
and elegant taste,” answered Rose, “ cannot be interest- 
ed in such trifling discussions. What is it to him, for 
example, whether the Chief of-the Macindallaghers, who 
has brought out only fifty men, should be a colonel or a 
captain? and how could Mr. Waverley be supposed 
to interest himself in the violent altercation between your 
brother and young Corrinaschian, whether the post of 
honour is due to the eldest cadet of a clan or the 
youngest ?” 

“ My dear Rose, if he were the hero you suppose him, 
he would interest himself in these matters, not indeed as 
important in themselves, but for the purpose of mediating 
between the ardent spirits who actually do make them the 
subject of discord. You saw when Corrinaschian raised 
his voice in great passion, and laid his hand upon his 
sword, Waverley lifted his liead as if he had just awaked 
from a dream, and asked, with great composure, what 
the matter was.” 

“ Well, and did ^t the laughter they fell into at his 
absence of mind, serve better to break off the dispute, 
than any thing he could have said to them ?” 

“ True, my dear,” answered Flora ; “ but not quite 
so creditably for Waverley as if he had brought them to 
their senses by force of reason.” 

“ Would you have him peace-maker general between 
all the gun-powder Highlanders in the army ? 1 beg your 
pardon, Flora, your brother, you know is out of the ques- 
tion ; he has more sense than half of them. But can 
you think the fierce, hot, furious spirits, of whose brawls 
we see much and hear more, and who terrify me out of 
my life every day in the world, are at all to be compared 
to Waverley ?” 

“ I do not compare him with those uneducated men, 
my dear Rose. I only lament, that, with his talents and 
genius, he does not assume that place in society for which 
they eminently fit him, and that he does not lend their 
full impulse to the noble cause in which he has enlisted. 
Are there not Lochiel, and P , and M , and 


108 


WAVERLEY. 


G , till men of the higliest education, as well as the 

first talents, — vviiy will he not stoop like them to be alive 
and useful ? — I often believe his zeal is Irozen by that 
proud cold-blooded Englishman, whom he now lives with 
so much.” 

“ Colonel Talbot ? he is a very disagreeable person, 
to be sure. He looks as if he tliought no Scottish wo- 
man w'orth the trouble of handing her a cup of tea. 
But VVaverley is so gentle, so well informed” 

“ Yes,” said Flora, smiling, “ he can admire the 
moon, and quote a stanza from Tasso^” 

“ Besides, you know how he fought,” added Miss 
Bradwardine. 

“ For mere fighting,” ^answered Flora, ‘‘ I believe all 
men (that is, who deserve the name) are pretty much 
alike : there is generally more courage required to run 
away. They have besides, when confronted with each 
other, a certain instinct for strife, as we see in other male 
animals, such as dogs, bulls, and so forth. But high and 
perilous enterprize is not Waverley’s forte. He would 
never have been his celebrated ail^estor Sir Nigel, but 
only Sir Nigel’s eulogist and poet. 1 will tell you where 
he will be at home, my dear, and in his place, — in the 
quiet circle of domestic happiness, lettered indolence, and 
elegant enjoyments of Waverley-Honour. And he will 
refit the old library in the most exquisite Gothic taste, 
and garnish its shelves with the rarest and most valuable 
volumes ; — and he will draw plans and landscapes, and 
write verses, and rear temples, and dig grottoes ; — and 
he will stand in a clear summer night in the colonnade 
before the hall, and gaze on the deer as they stray in the 
moonlight, or lie shadowed by the boughs of the huge 
cld fantastic oaks ; — and he will repeat verses to his 
beautiful wife, who will hang upon his arm ; — and he 
will be a happy man.” 

“ And she will be a happy woman,” thought poor 
Rose. But she only sighed, and dropped the conver- 
sation. 


WAVE BLEY. 


II* 


109 


CHAPTER XVIL 
Fergm, a Suitor. 

Waverley Imd, indeed, as he looked closer into the 
state of the Chevalier’s court, less reason to be satished 
with it. It contained, as they say an acorn includes all 
the ramifications ol* the future oak, as many seeds of 
tracassarie and intrigue, as might have done honour to the 
court of a large empire. Every person of consequence 
had some separate object, which he pursued with a fury 
that Waverley considered as altogether disproportioned 
to its importance. Almost all had their reasons for dis- 
content, although the most legitimate was that of the 
worthy old Baron, who was only distressed on account 
of the common cause, 

“ We shall hardly, ’^le said one morning to Waverley 
wheii they had been viewing the castle, — “ weshall hard- 
ly 2 :ain the obsidional crown, which you wot well was 
made of the roots or grain which takes root within the- 
place besieged, or it may be of the herb woodbind, 
paretaria,or pellitory ; we shall not, I say, gain it by this 
same blockade or leaguer of Edinburgh Castle.” For 
this opinion he gave most learned and satisfactory rea- 
sons, that the reader may not care to hear repeated. 

Having escaped from the old gentleman, Waverley 
Tvent to Fergus’s lodgings by appointment, to await his 
return from Holyrood-house. “ 1 am to have a particu- 
lar audience to-morrow,” said Fergus to Waverley, over- 
night, “ and you must meet me to wish me joy of the 
success which I securely anticipate.” 

The morrow came, and in ilie Chief’s apartment he 
found Ensign Maccombich waiting to make report of his 
turn of dvty in a sort of ditch which they had dug across 
19 vot n 


110 


WAVKRLEY. 


the Castfe-hill, and called a trench. In a short time tl t 
Chief’s voice was heard on the stair in a tone ol impa- 
tient fury, — “ Callum, — why, Calluin Beg, — Diaoul !” 
He entered the room with all the marks of a man agitated 
by a towering passion ; and there were few upon whose 
features rage produced a more violent effect. The veins 
of his forehead swelled -when he was in such agitation ; 
his nostril became dilated ; his cheek and eye inflamed ; 
and Ills look that of a demoniac. These appearances 
of half-suppressed rage were the more frightful, because 
they were obviously caused by a strong effort to temper 
with discretion an almost ungovernable paroxysm of pas- 
sion, and resulted from an internal conflict of the most 
dreadful kind, which agitated his whole frame of mortality. 

As he entered the apartment, he unbuckled his broad- 
sword, and throwing it down with such violence that the 
weapon rolled to the other end of tlie room, “ 1 know not 
what,” he exclaimed, “ withholds me from taking a sol- 
emn oath that 1 will never more draw it in his cause : 
— load my pistols, Callum, and brin^ them hither instant- 
ly ; — instantly !” Callum, whom nothing ever startled, 
dismayed, or disconcerted, obeyed very coolly. Evan 
Dhu, upon whose brow the suspicion that his Cliief had 
been insulted, called up a corresponding storm, swelled 
in sullen silence, awaiting to learn where or upon whom 
vengeance was to descend. 

“ So, Waverley, you are there,” said the Chief, after 
a moment’s recollection ; — “ Yes, I remember I asked 
you to share my triumph, and you have come to witness 
my — disappointment, wo shall call it.” Evan now pre- 
sented the written report he had in his hand, which 
FtJrgus threw from him with great passion. 1 wish to 
God,” he said, “ the old den would tumble down upon 
the heads of the fools who attack, and the knaves who 
defend it! I see, Waverley, you think I am mad,— • 
leave us, Evan, but be within call.” 

“ The Colonel’s in an unco’ kippage,” said Mrs. 
Flockhart to Evan as he descended y “I wish he ma^ 


WAVERLEY. 


11 ) 


De wee], — the very veins on his brent brow are swelled 
like whip-chord ; wad he no tak something f” 

“ He usually lets blood for these fits,” answered the 
Highland Ancient with great composure. 

When this officer left the room, the Chieftain gradu- 
ally reassumed some degree of composure. “ I know, 
Waverley,” he said, “ that Colonel Talbot has persuaded 
you to curse ten limes a-day your engagement with ls ; 
— nay, never deny it, for I am at this moment tempted 
to curse my own. Would you believe it, I made this 
very morning two suits to the Prince, and he has reject- 
ed them both ; what do you think of it f ” 

“ What can I think,” answered Waverley, “ till I 
know what your requests were ?” 

“ Why, what signifies what they were, man ? I tell you 
it was I that made them ; I, to whom he owes more than 
to any three who have joined the standard, for I nego- 
tiated the whole business, and brought in all the Perth- 
shire men when not one would have stirred. I am not 
likely, I think, to ask any thing very unreasonable, and 
if I did, they might have stretched a point. — Well, but 
you shall know all, now that I can draw my breath again 
with some freedom. — You remember my earFs patent ; 
it is dated some years back, for services then rendered, 
and certainly my merit has not been diminished, to say 
the least, by my subsequent behaviour. Now, sir, I value 
this bauble of a coronet as little as you can,or any philoso- 
pher on earth ; for I hold that the chief of such a clan 
as the Sliochd nan Ivor is superior in rank to any earl in 
Scotland. But I had a particular reason for assuming 
this cursed title at this time. You must knowthatl learned 
accidentally that the Prince has been pressing that old 
foolish Baron of Bradwardine to disinherit his male heir, 
or nineteenth or twentieth cousin, who has taken a com- 
mand in the Elector of Hanover’s militia, and to settle 
his estate upon your pretty little friend. Rose ; and this, 
as being the command of his king and overlord, who may 
alter the destination of a fief at pleasure, the old gentle- 
men seems well reconciled to.” 


112 


WAVE RLE Y. 


“ And vvHat becomes of the homage 
“ Curse the homage ! — believe Rose )S to pull off 
the queen’s slipper on her coronation-day, or some such 
trash. Well, sir, as Rose Bradwardine would always 
have made a suitable match for me, but for this idiotical 
predilection of her father for the heir-male, it occurred 
to me there now remained no obstacle,, unless that the 
Baron might expect his daughter’s husband to take the 
name of Bradwardine, (which you know would be im- 
possible in my case) and that this might be evaded by 
my assuming the title to which I had so good a right, 
and which, of course, would supersede that difficulty. 
If she was to be also A^iscountess Bradwardine, in her 
own right, after her father’s demise, so much the better ; 
I could have no objection.” 

“ But, Fergus,” said Waverley, “ I had no idea that 
you had any affection for Miss Bradwardine, and you are 
always sneering at her father.” ^ 

“ I have as much affection for Miss Bt-adwardine, my 
good friend, as 1 think it necessary to have for the future 
mistress of my family, and the mother of my children. 
She is a very pretty, intelligent girl, and is certainly of 
one of the very first Lowland families ; and, with a little 
of Flora’s instructions and forming, will make a very 
good figure. As to her father, he is an original, it is true, 
and an absurd one enough ; but he has given such sev'ere 
lessons to Sir Hew Halbert, that dear defunct the Laird 
of Balmawhapple, and others, that nobody dare laugh at 
him, so his absurdity goes for nothing. I tell you tliere 
could have been no earthly objection — none. 1 had set- 
tled the thing entirely in my own mind.” 

“ But had you asked the Baron’s consent” said Wa- 
verley, “ or Rose’s ?” 

“ To what purpose ? To have spoke to the Baron 
before 1 had assumed my title, would have only provoked 
a premature and irritating discussion on the subject of 
the change of name, when, as Farl of Glennaquoich, 1 
had only to propose to him to carry his d — d 'bear and 
hooi‘] 2 ick party per pale, or in a scmtcheon.of pretence, 
or in a separate shield perhaps — any way that would not 


WAVERLET. 


113 


blemish my own ccat-of-arms. And as to Rose, 1 don’t 
see what objection she could have made, if her hither 
was satisfied.” 

“ Perhaps the same that.your sister makes to me, you 
being satisfied.” 

Fergus gave a broad stare at the comparison which 
this supposition implied, but cautiously suppressed the 
answer which rose to his tongue. “ O, we should easily 
have arranged all that — so, sir, 1 craved a private inter- 
view, and this morning was assigned, and 1 asked you to 
meet me here, thinking, like a fool, that 1 should want 
your countenance as bride’s-man. Well, — 1 state my 
pretensions — they are not denied — the promises so re- 
peatedly made, and the patent granted — they are ac- 
knowledged. But I propose, as a natural consequence, 
to assume the rank which the patent bestowed — I have 

the old story of the jealousy of C and M 

trumped up against me — I resist this pretext, and offer to 
procure their written acquiescence, in virtue of the date 
of my patent as prior to their silly claims — I assure you" 
1 would have had such a consent from them, if it had 
been at point of the sword — And then out comes the 
real truth ; and he dares to tell me, to my face, that my 
patent must be suppressed for the present, for fear of 
disgusting that rascally coward and faineant — (naming 
the rival chief of his own clan) who has no better title 
to be a chieftain than I to be Emperor of China ; and 
who is pleased to shelter his dastardly reluctance to come 
out, agreeable to his promise twenty times pledged, under 
a pretended jealousy of the Prince’s partiality to me. 
And, to leave this miserable driveller without a pretence 
for his cowardice, the Prince asks it as a personal favour 
of me, forsooth, not to press my just and reasonable re- 
quest at this moment. After this, put your faith in 
princes !” 

“ And did your audience end here 
End ^ O no ! I was determined to leave him no 
pretence for his ingratitude, and I therefore stated, with 

VOL. II. 


114 


WAVERLET. 


all the composure 1 could muster, — for 1 promise you I 
trembled with passion, — the particular reasons I had for 
wishing that his Royal Highness would impose upon me 
any other mode of exhibiting my duty and devotion, as 
my views in life made, what at any other time would 
have been a mere trifle, at this crisis, a severe sacrifice ; 
and then I explained to him my full plan.” 

‘‘ And what did the Prince answer 
“ Answer ^ why — it is well it is written, curse not the 
king, no, not in thy thought ! — wdiy, he answered, that 
truly he was glad I had made him my confidant, to pre- 
vent more grievous disappointment, for he could assure 
me, upon thfe u’ord of a Prince, that Miss Bradwardine’s 
affections were engaged, and he was under a particular 
promise to favour them. ‘ So, my dear Fergus,’ said 
he, with his most gracious cast of smile, ‘ as the mar- 
riage is utterly out of question, there need be no hurry 
you know, about the earldom.’ And so he glided off, 
and left me plantc la^ 

' “ And what did you do ?” 

I’ll tell you what I could have done at that moment 
—sold myself to the devil or the Elector, w’hichever of- 
fered the dearest revenge. However, I am now cool. 
1 know he intends to marry her to some of his rascally 
Frenchmen, or his Irish officers, but I will watch them 
close ; and let the man that would supplant me look well 
to himself. — Bisogna coprirsi, Slguor.^^ 

After some further conversation, unnecessarv to be de- 
tailed, VVaverley took leave of the Chieftain, whose fury 
had now subsided into a deep and strong desire of ven- 
geance, and returned home, scarce able to analyze the 
mixture of feelings which th^. narrative had awakened 
in liis own bosom. 


WAVE RLE T. 


115 


CHAPTER XVIII. v ’ 

‘‘ To one Thing constant never, 

“ I AM the very child of caprice,” said Waverley to 
himself, as he bolted the door of his apartment, and 
paced it with hasty steps — “ What is it to me, that Fer- 
gus jMac-Ivor should wish to marry Rose Bradwardine ? 
—I love her not — I might have been loved by her per- 
haps — but I rejected her simple,. natural, and affecting 
attachment, instead of cherishing it into tenderness, and 
dedicated myself to one who will never love mortal man, 
unless old VVarwick, tlie King-maker, should arise from 
the dead. The Baron too — I would not have cared 
about his estate, and so the name would have been no 
stumbling-block. The devil might have taken the barren 
moors, and drawn off the royal cn/t^ce, for anything I 
would have minded. But, framed as* she is for domestic 
affection and tenderness, for giving and receiving all those 
kind and quiet attentions which sweeten life to iliose who 
pass it together, she is sought by Fergus Mac-Ivor. He 
will not use her ill to be sure — of that he is incapable — 
but he will neglect her after the first month ; he will be 
too intent on subduing some rival chieftain, or circum- 
venting some favourite at court, on gaining some heathy 
hill and lake, or adding to his hands some new troop of 
Caterans, to inquire what she does, or how she amuses 
herself, 

* Ami then will canker sorrow cal her bu^, 

And chase the native beauty from her cheek ; 

And she will look as hollow as a s?liost, * 

An<l dim and meag^re as an ague fit, 

And so sheMl die/ 

“ And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature 
on earth might ha'‘^e been prevented, if Mr. Edward Wa- 


116 


WAVERLET. 


vcriey had had Ids eyes ! — Upon my word, I cannot un- 
derstand how I tlioiight Flora so inucli, tliat is, so very 
much, handsojner than Rose. Slie is taller indeccl, and 
Jier manner more formed ; but many })eo})!e think Miss 
Biadwardine’s more natural ; and she is certainly much 
younger. I should think Flora is two years older than I 
am — I will look at them particularly this evening.” 

And with this resolution WaViCrley went to drink lea 
(as the fashion was sixty years since) at the house of a 
lady of quality, attached to tiie cause of the Chevalier, 
where he found, as he expected, both tlie ladies. All 
rose as lie entered, but Flora immediately resumed her 
place, and the conversation in whicli she was engaged. 
Rose, on the contrary, almost imj)crcepiibly made a little 
way in the crowded circle for his advancing the corner 
of a chair. — “ Her manner, tjpon the whole, is most en- 
gaging,” said Waverley to hi»nself. 

A dispute occurred whether the Gaelic or Italian lan- 
guage was most liquid, and best adaj)ted for poetry : the 
opinion for the Gaelic, which probably might not have 
found supporters elsewhere, was here fiercely defended 
by seven Highland ladies, who talked at the top of their 
lungs, and screamed the company deaf, witli examples 
of Celtic euphonla. Flora, observing the Lowland 
ladies sneer at the comparison, produced some reasons 
to show that it was not altogether so absurd ; but Rose, 
when asked for her opinion, gave it with animation in 
praise of Italian, which she had studied with Waverley ’s 
assistance. “ She has a more correct ear than Flora, 
though a less accomplished musician,” said Waverley to 
himself. “ I suppose Miss Mac-Ivor will next compare 
Mac-Murrough nam Fonn to Ariosto!” 

Lastly, it so befell that’ the company differed whether 
Fergus shouW be asked to perform on the flute, at which 
he was an adept, or Waverley invited to read a play of 
Shakspeare ; and the lady of the house good bumour- 
edly undertook to collect the votes of the company for 
poetry or music, under the condition, tliat the gentleman 
whose talents were not laid under contribution that even- 


WAVERLEY. 


117 


ing, should contribute them to enliven the next. It chan • 
ced iliat Rose had the casting vote. Now Flora, wbo 
seemed to impose it as a rule upon herself never to 
countenance any proposal which might seem to encour- 
age Waverley, had voted for music, providing the Baron 
would take his violin to accompany Fergus. “ 1 wish you 
joy of your taste. Miss Mac-Ivor,” thought Edward a? 
they sought for his book. “ 1 thought it better when we 
were at Glennaquoich ; but certainly the Baron is no 
great performer, and Shakspeare is worth listening to.” 

Romeo and Juliet was selected, and Edward read with 
taste, feeling, and spirit, several scenes from that play. 
All the company applauded with their hands and many 
with their tears. Flora, to whom the drama was well 
known, was among the former; Rose, to whom it was 
altogether new, belonged to the latter class of admirers. 
“ She has more feeling too,” said Waverley, internally. 

The conversation turning upon the incidents of the 
play, and upon the characters, Fergus declared that the 
only one worth naming, as a man of fashion and spirit, 
was Mercutio. “ I could not,” he said, “ quite follow 
all his old-fashioned wit, but he must have been a very 
pretty fellow, according to the ideas of his time.” 

“ And it was a shame,” said Ensign Mac^ombich, who 
usually followed his Colonel every \yhere, “ for that Tib- 
bert, or Taggart, or whatever was his name, to stick him 
under the other gentleman’s arm while he was redding 
the fray.” 

The ladies, of course, declared loudly in favour of 
Romeo, but tliis opinion did not go undisputed. The 
mistress of the house, and several other ladies severe.y 
reprobated the levity with which the hero transfers his 
affections from Rosalind to Juliet. Flora remained silent 
until her opinion was repeatedly requested, and then an- 
swered, she thought the circumstance objected to, not 
onlv reconcileahle to nature, but sucii as in the highest 
degree evinced the art of the poet. “ Romeo is described,” 
said she, “ as a y ;)ung man, peculiarly susceptible of the 


118 


WAVERXET. 


softer passions ; his love is at first fixed upon a woman 
who could afToi’d it no leLurn ; this lie repeatedly tells 
you,— 

‘ From love’s weak, childish bow she lives unharmed ;* 

and again, 

* She hath forsworn to love.' 

“ Now, as it wa? impossible that Romeo’s love, suppos- 
ing him a reasonable being, could continue to subsist with- 
out hope, the poet has, with great art, seized the moment 
when he was reduced actually to despair, to throw in his 
way an object more accomplished than her by whom he 
had been rejected, and who is disposed to repay his at- 
tachment. 1 can scarce conceive a situation more cal- 
culated to enhance the ardour of Romeo’s affection for 
Juliet, than his beiifg at once raised by her from the state 
of drooping melancholy, in which he appears first upon' 
the scene, to the ecstatic state in which he exclaims — 

‘ come what sorrow can, 

It cannot countervail the exchange of joy 
That one short moment gives me in her sight.’ ” 

“ Good »ji)ow. Miss Mac-Ivor,” said a young lady of 
quality, “ do you mean to cheat us out of our preroga- 
tive ? will you persuade us love cannot subsist without 
hope, or that the lover must become fickle if the lady is 
cruel ? O fie ! I did not expect such an unsentimental 
conclusion.” 

“ A lover, my dear Lady Betty,’’ said Flora, may, 

I conceive, persevere in bis suit under very discouraging 
circumstances. Affection can (now and then) withstand 
very severe storms of rigour, but not a long polar frost ol 
downright indifference. Don’t, even with ijour attrac- 
tions, try the experiment upon any lover whose faith you 
value. Love \vill subsist on wonderfully little hope, but 
not altogether without it.” 

“ It will be just like Duncan Mac-Girdle’s mare,’ 
said Evan, “ if your ladyships please ; he wanted tc 




119 


use her by degrees to live without meat, and just as he 
had put her on a straw a-day, the poor thing died !” 

Evan’s illustration set the company a-laughing, and 
the discourse look a difterent turn. Shortly afterwards 
the parly broke up, and Edward returned home, musing 
on what Flora had said. “ 1 will love my Rosalind no 
more,” said he ; “ she has given me a broad enough 
hint for that ; and I will speak to her brother, and resign 
my suit. But for a Juliet — would it be handsome to 
interfere with Fergus’s pretensions f Though it is im- 
possible they can ever succeed : and should they mis- 
carry, what then ? — why then alors comme alors.^^ And 
with this resolution, of being guided by circumstances 
did our hero commit himself to repose. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A Brave Man in Sorrow, 

If my fair readers should be of opinion that my hero’s 
levity in love is altogether unpardonable, 1 must remind 
them, that all his griefs and difficulties did not arise from 
that sentimental source. Even the lyric poet, who com- 
plains so feelingly of the pains of love, could not forget, 
that, at the same time, he was “ in debt and in drink,” 
which, doubtless, were great aggravations of his distress. 
There were, indeed, whole days in which Waverley 
thought neither of Flora nor Rose Bradwardine, but 
which were spent in melancholy conjectures on the 
probable state of matters at Waverlej -Honour, and the 
dubious issue of the civil contest in which he was pledg- 
ed. Colonel Talbot often engaged him in discussions 
upon the justice of the cause he had espoused. “ Not,” 
he said, “ that it is possible for you to quit it at this 
present moment, for, come what will, you must stand by 


120 


WAVERLET. 


your rash engagement. But I wish you to be aware 
that the right is not with you ; that you are fighting 
against the real interests of your country ; and that you 
ought, as an Englishman and a patriot, to take the first 
opportunity to leave this unhappy expedition before the 
snow-ball melts.” 

In such political disputes, Waverley usually opposed 
the common arguments of his party, with which it is un- 
necessary to trouble the reader. But he had little to 
say when the Colonel urged him to compare the strength 
by which they had undertaken to overthrow the govern- 
ment, with that which was now assembling very rapidly 
for its support. To this statement, Waverley had but 
one answer : “ If the cause I have undertaken be peri- 
lous, there would be the greater disgrace in abandoning 
it.” And in his turn he generally silenced Colonel Tal- 
bot, and succeeded in changing the subject. 

One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, 
the friends had separated, and our hero had retired to 
bed, he was awakened about midnight by a suppressed 
groan. He started up and listened ; it came from the 
apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was divided from 
his own by a wainscotted partition, with a door of com- 
munication. Waverley approached this door, and dis- 
tinctly heard one or two deep-drawn sighs. What could 
De the matter f The Colonel had parted from him, ap- 
parently, in his usual state of spirits. He must have 
been taken suddenly ill. Under this impression, he 
opened the door of communication very gently, and 
perceived the Colonel, in his night-gown, seated by a 
table, on which lay a letter and picture. He raised his 
head hastily, as Edward stood uncertain whether to ad- 
vance or retire, and Waverley perceived that his cheeks 
were stained with tears. 

As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emo- 
tion, Colonel Talbot rose with apparent displeasure, and 
said, with some sternness, “ I think, ]\lr. Waverley, my 
own apartment, and tiie liour, might have seemed even 
a prisoner against” 


WAVKULIiY. 


121 


“ Do not say intrusion, Colonel Talbot ; I heard you 
breathe hard, and feared you were ill ; that alone could 
have induced me to break in upon you.” 

“1 am well,” said the Colonel, “ perfectly well.” 

“ But you are distressed,” said Edward : “ is there 
anything can be done ?” 

“ Nothing, Mr. VVaverley ; 1 was only thinking of 
home, and some unpleasant occurrences there.” 

“ Good God, my uncle !” exclaimed Waverley. 

“ No, it is a grief entirely my own. 1 am ashamed 
you should have seen it disarm me so much ; but it must 
have its course at times, that it may be at others more 
decently supported. 1 would have kept it secret from 
you ; for 1 think it will grieve you, and yet you can ad- 
minister no consolation. But you have surprised me, — 
I see you are surprised yourself, — and 1 hate mystery. 
Read that letter.” 

The letter was from Colonel Talbot’s sister, and in 
these words : 

“ I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges. 
Sir E. VV. and Mr. R. are still at large, but are not per- 
mitted to leave London. I wish to heaven 1 could give 
you as good an account of matters in the square. But 
the news of the unhappy affair at Preston came upon us, 
with the dreadful addition that you were among the fall- 
en. You know Lady Emily’s state of health, when 
your friendship for Sir E. induced you to leave her. 
She w'as much harassed with the sad accounts from 
Scotland of the rebellion having broken out : but kept 
up her spirits, as, she said, it became your wife, and for 
the sake of the future heir, so long hoped for in vain. 
Alas, my dear brother, these hopes are now ended ! 
notwithstanding all my watchful care, this unhappy ru- 
mour reached her without preparation. She was taken 
ill immediately ; and the poor infant scarce survived its 
birth. Would to God this were all ! But although the 
contradiction of the horrible report by your own letter 

VOL. II. 


m 


WATBBXIST. 


has greatly revived her spirits, yet Dr. apprehends, 

1 grieve to say, serious, and even dangerous consequen- 
ces to her liealtli, especially from the uncertainty in 
which she must necessarily remain for some time, ag- 
gravated by the ideas she has formed, of the ferocity of 
those with whom you are a prisoner. 

‘‘ Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this 
reaches you, endeavour to gain your release by parole, 
by ransom, or any way that is practicable. 1 do not 
exaggerate Lady Emily’s state of health ; but I must not 
— dare not — suppress the truth. Ever, my dear Philip, 
your most affectionate sister, 

“ Lucy Talbot.” 

Edward stood motionless when he had perused this 
letter, for the conclusion was inevitable, that, by the 
Colonel’s journey in quest of him, he had incurred this 
heavy calamity. It was severe enough, even in its ir- 
remediable part ; for Colonel Talbot and Lady Emily, 
long without a family, had fondly exulted in the hoj)es 
Avhich were now blasted. But this disappointment was 
nothing to the extent of the threatened evil ; and Ed- 
ward, with horror, regarded himself as the original cause 
of botli. 

Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak. 
Colonel Talbot had recovered his usual composure of 
manner, though his troubled eye denoted his mental 
agony. 

‘‘ She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify 
even a soldier’s tears.” He reached him the miniature, 
exhibiting features which fully justified the eulogium ; 
“ and yet, God knows, what you see of her there is the 
least of the charms she possesses — possessed, 1 should 
perhaps say — but God’s wnll be done.” 

“ You must fiy — you must fly instantly to her relief 
It is not — i*. shall not be too late.” 

“ Fly ? how is it possible ^ I am a prisoner — upon 
parole.” 




123 


‘‘ I am your keeper — I restore your parole — I am to 
answer for you.’^ 

“ You cannot do so consistently with your duty ; nor 
can 1 accept a discljarge from you, with clue regard to 
my own honour — you woidd be made responsible.” 

“ I will answer it with my head, if necessary,” said 
VVaverley, impetuously. “ I have been the unhappy cause 
uf the loss of your child, make me not the murderer of 
yojir wife,” 

“ No, my dear Edward,” said Talbot, taking him 
kindly by the hand, “ you are in no respect to blame ; 
and if 1 concealed this domestic distress for two days, it 
was lest your sensibility should view it in that light. You 
could not think of me, hardly knew of my existence, 
when 1 left England in quest of you. It is a responsi- 
bility, heaven knows, sufficiently heavy for mortality, 
that we must answer for the foreseen and direct result 
of our actions, — for their indirect and consequential op- 
eration, the great and good Being, who alone can foresee 
the de])endctice of human events on each other, hath not 
pronounced his frail creatures liable.” 

“ But that you should have left Lady Emily,’* said 
Waverley, with much emotion, “ in the situation of all 
others the most interesting to a husband, to seek a” 

“ I only did my duty,” answered Colonel Talbot, 
calmly, “ and I do not, ought not, to regret it. If the 
path of gratitude and honour were always smooth and 
easy, there would be little merit in following it ; but it 
moves often in contradiction to our interest and passions, 
and sometimes to our better affections. These are the 
trials of life, and this, though not the least bitter,” (the 
tears came unbidden to his eyes,) “ is not the first which 
it has been rny fate to encounter. — But w^e will talk of this 
to-morrow,” he said, wringing VVaverley’s hands. “ Good 
night ; strive to forget it for a few hours. It will dawm, 

I think, by six, and it is now past two. Good night.” 

Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply. 


124 


WAVBIILEX’* 


CHAPTER XX. 

Exertion, 

When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast parlour 
ext morning, be learned from Waverley’s servant that 
our hero had been abroad at an early hour, and was not 
yet returned. The morning was well advanced before 
he again appeared. He arrived out of breath ; but with 
an air of joy that astonished Colonel Talbot. 

“ There,” said he, throwing a paper on the table, 
there is my morning’s work. — Alick, pack up the 
Colonel’s clothes. Make haste, make haste.” The 
Colonel examined the paper with astonishment. It was 
a pass from the Chevalier to Colonel Talbot, to repair to 
Leith, or any other port in possession of his Royal High- 
ness’s troops, and there- to embark for England, or else- 
where, at his free pleasure ; he only giving bis parole of 
honour not to bear arms against the house of Stuart for 
the space of a twelvemonth.” 

“ In the name of God,” said the Colonel, his eyes 
sparkling with eagerness, “ how did 3 ^ou obtain this 
“ I was at the Chevalier’s levee as soon as he usually 
rises. He was gone to the camp at Duddingston. 1 
pursued him thither ; asked and obtained an audience — 
but I will tell you not a word more, unless 1 see you 
begin to pack.” 

“ Before I know whether I can avail myself of this 
passport,' or how it was obtained ?” 

“ O, you can takeout the things again, you know. — 
INow I see you busy, I will go on. When 1 first men- 
tioned your name, his eyes s})arkled almost as bright as 
yours did two minutes since. ‘ Had you,’ ho earnestly 
asked, ‘ shown any sentiments favourable to his cause 
» Not in the least, nor was there any hope you would do 


WAVEKLEY. 


125 


SO.’ His countenance fell. I requested your freedom 
‘ Impossible,’ he said ‘ your importance as a friend 
and confidant of such and sucli personages made my re- 
quest altogetiier extravagant.’ I loid liim my own story 
and yours ; and asked him to judge what my feelings 
must he by his own. He has a lieart, and a kind one, 
Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please. He 
took a sheet of paper, and wrote the pass with his own 
hand. ‘ 1 will not trust myself with my eouncil,’ he 
said ; < they will argue me out of what is right. 1 will 
not endure that a friend, valued as 1 value you, should 
he loaded with the painful reflections which must ulTiict 
you in case of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot’s 
fajnily ; nor will I keep a brave enemy a priscner under 
such circumstances. Besides,’ said he, ‘ I tln.ik 1 can 
justify myself to my prudent advisers, by pleading the 
good effect such lenity will produce on the minds of the 
great English families with whom Colonel Talbot is 
connected.’ ” 

There the politician peeped out,” said the Colonel. 

Well, at least he concluded like a King’s son ; — 
Take the pass})ort ; I have added a condition for form’s 
sake"*; but if the Colonel objects to it, let him depart 
without giving any parole whatever. J come here to 
war with men, but not to distress or endanger women.’ ” 
“ Well, 1 never thought to have been so much indebt- 
ed to the Pretend ” 

‘‘ To the Prince,” said Waverley, smiling. 

“ To the Chevalier,” said the Colonel ; “ it is a good 
travelling name, and which we may both freely use. 
Did he say any thing more f” 

Only asked if there was any thing else he could 
oblige me in ; and when I replied in the negative, he 
shook me by tlie hand, and wished all his followers were 
as considerate, since some friends of mine not only ask- 
ed all he had to bestow^, but many things which were 
entirely out of his power, or that of the greatest sover- 
eign upon earth. Indeed, he said, no prince seemed, in 

VOL. II. 


126 


WAVE RLE Y. 


the eyes of his followers, so like the Deity as himself, 
if you were to judge from the extravagant requests 
which they daily preferred to him.” 

“ Poor young gentleman,” said the Colonel, “ 1 sup- 
pose he begins to feel the difficulties of his situation. 
Well, dear Waverley, this is more than kind, and shall 
not be forgotten while Philip Talbot can remember any 
thing. My life — pshaw — let Emily thank you for that 
— this is 'a favour worth fifty lives. I cannot hesitate 
on giving my parole in the circumstances : there 
it is — (he wrote it out in form) — And now, how am 1 to 
get off 

“ All that is settled : your baggage is packed, my 
horses wait, and a boat has been engaged, by the Prince’s 
permission, to put you on board the Fox frigate. Isent 
a messenger down to Leith on purpose.” 

“ That will do excellently well. Captain Beaver is 
my particular friend : he will put me ashore at Berwick 
or Shields, from whence I can ride post to London ; — 
and you must intrust me with the packet of papers 
which you recovered by means of your Miss Bean 
Lean. I may have an opportunity of using them to 
your advantage. — But I see your Highland friend 

Glen what do you call his barbarous name ? and 

his orderly wdth him — I must not call him his orderly 
cut-throat any more, I suppose. See how he walks as 
if the world were his own, with the bonnet on one side 
of his head, and his plaid pufted out across his breast! I 
should like now to meet that youth where my hands 
were not tied : 1 would tame his pride, or he should 
tame mine.” 

“ For shame. Colonel Talbot! You swell at sight of 
lartan, as the bull is said to do at scarlet. You and 
Mac- Ivor have some points not much unlike, so fi\r as 
national prejudice is concerned.” 

The latter paa-t of this discourse took place in the street. 
They passed the Chief, the Colonel and he sternly and 
punctiliously greeting each other, like two duellists 
before they take their ground. It was evident the dis- 


WAVE RLE Y. 


127 


like (\'as mutual. “ I never see that surly fellow tha! 
dogs his heels,” said the Colonel, alter he had mounted 
his horse, “ hut he reminds me of lines 1 have some- 
where heard — upon the stage, 1 think ; 


Close behind him 

Stalks sullen Bertram, hke a sorcerer’s fiend, 
Pressing- to be emplojed.’ ” 


‘‘ I assure you. Colonel, that you judge too harshly ol 
the Highlanders,” said Waverley. 

“ Not a whit, not a whit ; 1 cannot spare them a jot ; 
1 cannot hate them an ace. Let them stay in iheii own 
barren mountains, and puff and sw6ll, and hang their 
bonnets on the horns of the moon if they have a mind ; 
but what business have they to come where people wear 
breeches and speak an intelligible language — 1 mean in- 
telligible in comparison to their gibberish, for even the 
Lowlanders talk a kind of English little better than the 

Negroes in Jamaica. I could pity the Pr , 1 mean 

the Chevalier himself, for having so many desperadoes 
about him. And they learn their trade so early. There 
is a kind of subaltern imp, for example, a sort of suck- 
ing devil, whom your friend Glen — Glcnamuck there, 
has sometimes in his train. To look at him, he is about 
fifteen years ; but he is a century old in mischief and 
villany. He was playing at quoits the other day in the 
court ; a gentleman, a decent-looking person enough, 
came past, and as a quoit hit his shin, he lifted his cane : 
But my young bravo whips out his pistol, like Beau 
Clincher in the Trip to the Jubilee, and had not a scream 
of Gardez Peau, from an upper window, set all parties 
a scampering for fear of the inevitable consequences, the 
poor gentleman would have lost his life by the hands ol 
that little cockatrice.” 

“ A fine character you’ll give of Scotland upon youi 
return, Colonel Talbot.” 

“ O, Juslice# 5 hallow,” said the Colonel, “ will save me 
the trouble — ‘ Barren, barren, beggars all, beggars all ' 


129 


WAVER LEY. 


Many, good air,’ — and that only when you are fairly out 
of Edinburgh, and not yet come to Leith, as is our case 
at present.” 

In a short time they arrived at the seaport : — 

The boat rock’d at the pier of Leith, 

Full loud the wind blew down the ferry ; 

The ship rode at the Berwick law.” 


“ FareAvell, Colonel ; may you find all as you would 
wish it ! Perhaps w’e may meet sooner than you expect; 
they talk of an immediate route to England.” 

“ Tell me nothing of that,” said Talbot ; “I wish 
to carry no news of your motions.” 

“ Simply then, adieu. Say, with a thousand kind 
greetings, all that is dutiful and affectionate to Sir Eve- 

rard and Aunt Rachel Think of me as kindly as you 

can — speak of me as indulgently as your conscience will 
permit, and once more,adieu.” 

“ And adieu, my dear Waverley ; many, many thanks 
for your kindness. Unplaid yourself on the first op- 
portunity. I shall ever think on you with gratitude, and 
the worst of my censure shall be, Qwe diable alloit il 
faire dans ceite galcre ?” 

And thus they parted, Colonel Talbot going on board 
of the boat, and Waverley returning to Edinburgh. 


CHAPTER XXL 
The March. 

It is not our purpose to intrude upon the province of 
history. We shall therefore only remind our readers, 
that about the beginning of November the Young Chev- 
alier, at the head of about six thousand men at tlie utmost 
resolved to peril his cause on an attempt to penetrate 


WavEIILEY. 


129 


nto the centre of England, although aware of the mighty 
preparations which were made for his reception. They 
set forward on tliis crusade in weather whicli would have 
rendered any other troops incapable of marching, but 
whicli in reality gave these active mountaineers advanta- 
ges over a less hardy enemy. In defiance of a superior 
army lying upon the Borders, under Field-Marshal 
Wade, they besieged and took Carlisle, and soon after- 
wards prosecuted their daring march to the southward. 

As Colonel Mac-lvor’s regiment marched in the van 
of the clans, he and Waverley, who now equalled any 
Highlander in the endurance of fatigue, and was become 
somewhat acquainted with their language, were perpet- 
ually at its head. They marked the progress of the 
army, however, with very different eyes. Fergus, all air 
and fire, and confident against the world in arms, measur- 
ed nothing but that every step was a yard nearer London. 
He neither asked, expected, nor desired any aid, except 
that of the clans, to place the Stuarts once more on the 
tiirone ; and when by chance a few adherents joined the 
standard, he always considered them in the light of new 
claimants upon the favours of the (Inure monarch, who, 
he concluded, must therefore subtract for their gratifica- 
tion so much of the bounly which ought to be shared 
among his Highland followers. 

Edward’s views were very different. He could not 
but observe, that in those towns in which they proclaimed 
James the Third, “ no man cried, God bless him.” 
The mob stared and listened, heartless, stupified, and 
dull, but gave few signs even of that boisterous spirit, 
which induces them to shout upon all occasions for the 
mere exercise of their most sweet voices. The Jaco- 
bites had been taught to believe that the north-western 
counties abounded with wealthy squires and hardy yeomen, 
devoted to the cause of the White Rose. But of the 
wealthier tories they saw little. Some fled from their 
houses, some feigned themselves sick, some surrendered 
themselves to the government as suspected persons. 
Of such as remained, the. ignorant gazed with astonish* 


130 


WAVERLEY. 


ment, mixed with horror and aversion, at the wild a'.pear- 
ance, unknown language, and singular garb of the 
Scottish clans. And to the more prudent, their scanty 
numbers, apparent deficiency in discipline, and poverty 
of equipment, seemed certain tokens of the calamitous 
termination of their rash undertaking. Thus the few who 
joined them were such as bigotry of political principle 
blinded to consequences, or whose broken fortunes in- 
duced to hazard all on a risk so desperate. 

The Baron of Bradwardine being asked what he 
thought of these recruits, took a long pinch of snulT, 
and answered dryly, “ that he could not but have an ex- 
cellent opinion of them, since they resembled precisely 
the followers who attached themselves to the good King 
David at the cave of Adullam ; videlicet, every one that 
was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every 
one that was discontented, which the vulgate renders 
bitter of soul ; and doubtless,” he said “ they will prove 
mighty men of their hands, and there is much need 
that tirey should, for I have seen many a sour look cast 
upon us.” 

But none of these considerations moved Fergus. 
He admired the luxuriant beauty of the country, and 
the situation of many of the seats which they passed. 

Is Waverley-Honour like that house, Edward f” 

“ It is one-half larger.” 

“ Is your uncle’s park as fine a one as that 

“ It is three times as extensive, and rather resembleii 
a forest than a mere park.” 

“ Flora will be a happy woman.” 

“ I hope Miss Mac-Ivor will have much reason for 
happiness, unconnected with Waverley-Honour.” 

“ I hope so too ; but, to be mistress of such a place 
will be a pretty addition to the sum total.” 

“ An addition, the want of which, I trust, will be amply 
supplied by some, other means.” 

“ How,” said Fergus, stopping short, and turning 
upon Waverley — “ How am I to understand that, Mr 
Waverley f — Had I the pleasure to hear you aright 


WAVEIILEY. 


IvJl 


“ Perfectly right, Fergus.” 

“ And I am to understand that you no lorger desire 
my alliance, and my sister’s hand ?” 

“ Your sister has refused mine,” said Waverley, “ both 
directly and by all the usual means by which ladies re- 
press undesired attentions,” 

“ 1 have no idea,” answered the chieftain, “ of a lady 
dismissing or a gentleman withdrawing his suit, after it has 
been approved of by her legal guardian, without giving him 
an oj)portuu!ty of talking the matter over with the lady. 
You did not, I suppose, expect my sister to drop into your 
mouth like a ripe plum, the first moment you chose to 
oj)en it 

“ As to the lady’s title to dismiss her lover. Colonel,” re^ 
plied Edward, “ it is a point which you must argue with her, 
as I am ignorant of the customs of the Highlands in that 
particular. But as to my title to acquiesce in a rejection 
from her without an appeal to your interest, 1 will tell you 
plainly, without meaning to undervalue Miss Mac-Ivor’s 
admitted beauty and accomplishments, that 1 would not 
take the band of an angel, with an empire for her dowry, it 
her consent were extorted by the importunity of friends and 
guardians, and did Mot How from her own free inclination.” 

“ An angel, with the dowry of an empire,” repeated 
Fergus, in a lone of bitter irony, “ is not very likely to be 

pressed upon a shire squire. But, sir,” changing his 

tone, “ if Flora Mac-Ivor have not the dowry of an 
empire, she is my sister, and that is sufficient at least to 
secure her against being treated with any thing ap- 
proaching to levity.” 

“ She is Flora Mac-Ivor, sir,” said Waverley, with firm- 
ness, “ which to me, were 1 capable of treating any wo- 
man with levity, would be a more effectual protection.” 

The brow of the Chieftain was now fully clouded, but 
Edward felt too indignant at the unreasonable tone which 
be had adopted, to avert the storm by the least conces- 
sion. They both stood still while this short dialogue 
passed ; and Fergus seemed half disposed to say some- 
thing more violent ; but, by a strong eflbrt, suppressed 


'WAVERT.F/Y. 


1S2 


his passion, and, turning his face forward, walked sullen 
ly on. As they had always hitherto walked together, 
and almost constantly side by side, Waverley pursued 
his course silently in the same direction, determined to 
let the Chief take his own time in recov^ering the good 
humour which he had so unreasonably discarded, and 
firm in his resolution not to bate him an inch of dignity. 

After they had marched on in this sullen manner about 
a mile, Fergus resumed the discourse in a different tone- 
“ 1 believe 1 was warm, my dear Edward, but you pro- 
voke me with your want of knowledge of the world. 
You have taken pet at some of Flora’s prudery, or high- 
flying notions of loyalty, and now, like a child, you 
quarrel with the plaything you have been crying for, and 
beat me, your faithful keeper, because my arm cannot 
reach to Edinburgh to hand it to you. I am sure, if I 
was passionate, the mortification of losing the alliance of 
such a friend, after your arrangement liad been the 
talk of both Highlands and Lowlands, and that without 
so much as knowing why or wherefoic, might well pro- 
voke calmer blood than- mine. 1 shall write to Edin- 
burgh, and put ail to rights ; that is, if you desire 1 
should do so ; as indeed 1 cannot sup)>ose that your 
good opinion of Flora, it being such as you have often 
expressed to me, can be at once laid aside.” 

“ Colonel Mac-Ivor,” said Edward, who had no mind 
to be hurried farther or faster than he chose in a matter 
which he had already considered as broken off, “ 1 am 
fully sensible of the value of your good offices ; and 
certainly, by your zeal on my behalf in such an affair, 
you do me no small honour. But as Miss Mac-1 vor has 
made her election freely and voluntai-ily, and as all my 
attentions in Edinburgh were received with more than 
coldness, I cannot, in justice either to her or myself, 
consent that she should again be harassed upon this 
topic. I would have mentioned this to you some time 
since, but you saw the footing upon which we stood 
together, and must have understood it. Had I thoug^ln 
otherwise, 1 would have earlier spoken : but I had a 


WAVE RLE Y. 


133 


natural reluctance to enter upon a subiecl so painful to 
us both.” ^ 

“ O, very well, Mr. Waverley,” said Fergus, liaugh- 
uly, “ the thing Is at an end. 1 have no occasion to press 
niy sister upon any man.” 

, “ iVor have 1 any occasion to court repeated rejection 

from the same young lady,” answered Edward, with die 
same tone. 

“ I shall make due inquiry, however,” said the Chief- 
tain, wiiliout noticing the interruption, “ and learn what 
my sister thinks ol all this : we will then see whether it 
is to end here.” 

“ Respecting such inquiries, you will of course be 
guided by your own judgment,” said VVaverlej". “ It is, 1 
am aware, impossible Miss Mac-1 vor can change her 
mind ; and were such an unsupposable case to hajipen, 
it is certain I will not change mine. I only mention this 
to prevent any possibility of future misconstruction.” 

Gladly at this moment would Mac-1 vor have put their 
quarrel to a personal arbitremenl ; his eye flashed fire, 
and lie measured Edward as if to choose where he might 
best plant a mortal wound. . Rut although we do not 
now quarrel according to the modes and figures of Ca- 
ranza or Vincent Saviola, no one knew better than Fer- 
gu.5 that there must be some decent jiretext for a mortal 
duel. P^'or instance, you may challenge a man for 
treading on your corn in a crowd, or for pushing you up 
to the wall, or for taking your seat in the theatre ; but 
the modern code of honour will not permit you to found 
a quarrel upon your right of compelling a man to con- 
tinue addresses to a female relative, which the fair lady 
has already refused. So that Fergus was compelled to 
stomach this supposed affront, until the whirligig of time, 
whose motion he promised himself he would watch most 
sedulously, should bring about an opportunity of revenge. 

Waverley’s servant always led a saddle-horse for him 
in the rear of the battalion to which he was attached, 
though his master seldom rode. But now, incensed 
at the domineering and unreasonable conduct of his late 
SO VOL. It. ... 


134 


WAVE RLE Y. 


friend, he fell behind the column, and moun.ed his 
horse, resolving to seek the Ihiion of Jh’adwardino, and 
request permission to volunteer in his troop, instead of 
the iMac-Ivor regiment. 

“ A happy time of it 1 should liave had,” thought he, 
after he was mounted, “ to have been so closely allied 
to this superb specimen of pride and self-opinion and 
passion. A Colonel ! why, he should have been a 
generalissimo. A petty chief of three or four hundred 
men ! his j)ride might suflice for the Cham of Tartary 
— the Grand Seignior — the Great IVIognl ! 1 am well 
fice of him. Were Flora an angel, she would bring 
with her a second Lucifer of ambition and wrath for a 
brother-in-law.” 

The Baron, whose learning (like Sancho’s jests, while 
in the Sierra IMorena,) seemed to grow mouldy for want 
of exercise, joyfully embraced the opportunity of Wa- 
vcrley’s offering his service in his regiment, to bring it 
into some exertion. The good-natured old gentleman 
however, laboured to afiect a reconciliation between the 
two quondam friends. .Fergus turned a cold ear to his 
remonstrances, though he gave them a respectful hear- 
ing ; and as for VV^lverley, he saw no reason wdiy' he 
should be the first in courting a renewal of the intimacy 
which the Chieftain had so unreasonably disturbed. 
The l5aron then mentioned the matter to the Prince, 
who, anxious to prevent quarrels in his little army, de- 
clared, he would himself remonstrate with Colonel Mac- 
Ivor on the unreasonableness of his conduct. But, in 
the hurry of their march, it was a day or two before be 
liad an opportunity to exert his influence in the manner 
proposed. 

In the meanwhile, Waverley turned the instructions he 
had received while in Gardiner’s dragoons to some 
account, and assisted the Baron in his command as a 
sort of adjutant. ‘‘ Parmi les avevgles un horgne est 
roi,^^ says the French proverb ; and the cavalry, which 
consisted chiefly of Lowland gentlemen, their tenants 
and servants, formed a high opinion of Waverley’s 


M 4VEULEY. 


135 


skill, and a great attachment to his person. This was 
indeed partly owing to the satisfaction which they felt at 
the distinguished English volunteer’s leaving the High- 
landers to rank among them ; for there w'as a latent 
grudge between the horse and foot, not only owing to 
the difierence of the services, but because most of the 
gentlemen, living near the Highlands, had at one time or 
other had fjuarrels with the tribes in their vicinity, and 
all of them looked with a jealous eye on the Highland- 
ers’ avowed pretensions to superior valour and utility in 
the Prince’s service. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The Confusion of King Agramanfs Camj), 

It was Waverley’s custom sometimes to ride a little 
apart from the main body, to look at any object of curios- 
ity which occurred on the march. They w^ere now 
in Lancashire, w'hen, attracted by a castellated old hall, 
he left the squadron for half an hour, to take a survey 
and slight sketch of it. As he returned down the ave- 
nuejie was met by Ensign Maccombich. This man had 
contracted a sort of regard for Edward since the day of 
his first seeing him at Tully-Veolan, and introducing him 
to the Highlands. He seemed to loiter, as if on pur- 
pose to meet with our hero. Yet, as he passed him, he 
only approached his stirrup, and pronounced the single 
word. Beware ! and then walked swiftly on, shunning 
all further communication. 

Edward, somewhat surprised at this hint, followed 
with his eyes the course of ^^van, who speedily disap- 
peared among the trees. His servant, Alick Polwarth, 
who was in attendance, also looked after the Highlander, 
and thenridingup close to bis master, said, 


136 


^VAVERl.EY. 


“ The ne’er be in me, sir, if I think you’re safe amang 
hae Highland rinlhereouts.” ' 

“ What do you mean, Alick ?” said Waverley. 

“ The Mac-lvors, sir, hae gotten it into their heads, that 
ye hae affronted their young leddy, INJiss Flora ; and I 
hae heard mae than ane say, they wadna tak muckle to 
inak a black-cock o’ ye ; and ye ken weel eneugh there’s 
inony o’ them wadna mind a bawbee the weising a ball 
through the Prince himsell, an the Chief gave them the 
wink — qr whether he Jid or no, if they thought it a thing 
that would please him when it was dune.” 

Waverley,, though confident that Fergus Mac-Ivor 
was incapable of such treachery, was by no means 
equally sure of the forbearance of his followers. He 
knew, that where the iionour of the Chief or his family 
was supposed to be touched, the hajqiiest man would be 
he that could first avenge the stigma : ami he bad often 
beard them quote a proverb, “ That the best revenge 
was the most speedy and most safe.” Coupling this 
with the hint of Evan, he judged it most prudent to set 
spurs to his horse, and- ride briskly back to the squad- 
ron. Ere he reached the end of the long avenue, how- 
ever, a ball whistled past him, and the report of a pistol 
was heard. 

“ It w’as that deevil’s buckie, Callum Beg,” said 
Alick ; “ 1 saw him whisk away through amang the 
reises.” 

Edward, justly incensed at this act of treachery, gal. 
loped out of the avenue, and observed the battalion of 
I\rac-Ivor at some distance moving along the common,.in 
which it terminated. He also saw an individual running 
very fast to join the party ; this he concluded was the 
intended assassin, wdio, by leaping an inclosure, might 
easily make a much shorter path to the main body than 
he could find on horseback. Unable to contain himself, 
he commanded Alick to go to the Baron of Bradwar- 
dine, who was at the head of his regiment about half a 
mile in front, and acquaint him with what had happened. 
He himself immediately rode up to Fergus’s regiment. 


WAVERLEY. 


I3T 

The Chief himself was in thr act of joining them. He 
was on horseback, having ’.eturned from wailing on 
ihe Prince. On perceiving Edward approaching, he 
put his horse in motion towards him. 

“ Colonel IMac-lvor,” said Waverley, without any 
farther salutation, “ 1 liave to inform you, that one of 
your people has this instant fired at me from a lurking- 
place.” 

“ As that,” answered Mac-Ivor, “ excepting the cir- 
cumstance of a lurking-place, is a pleasure which I pres- 
ently propose to myself, I should be glad to know which 
of my clansmen dared to anticipate me.” 

“ 1 shall certainly be at your command whenev'er you 
please ; — the gentleman who took your office upon him- 
self is your page there, Callum Beg.” 

‘‘ Stand forth from the ranks, Callum ! Did you fire 
at Mr. Waverley 

“ No,” answered the unblushing Callum. 

You did,” said Alick Polwarth, who was already 
returned, having met a trooper by whom he despatched 
an account of what was going forward to the Baron of 
Bradwardine, while he himself returned to his master at 
full gallop, neither sparing the rowels of his spurs, nor 
the sides of his horse. “ You did ; I saw you as plain- 
ly as I ever saw tlie auld kirk at Coudingham.” 

“ You lie,” replied Callum, with his usual impenetra- 
ble obstinacy. The combat between the knights would 
certainly, as in the days of chivalry, have been preceded 
by an encounter between the squires, (for Alick was a 
stout-hearted Merse man, and feared the bow of Cupid 
far more than a Highlander’s dirk or claymore,) but 
Fergus, with his usual tone of decision, demanded Cal- 
lum’s pistol. The cock was down, the pan and muzzle 
were black with the smoke ; it had been that instant 
fired. 

‘‘ Take that,” said Fergus, striking the boy upon the 
head wdth the heavy pistol butt with his whole force, — 
take that for acting without orders, and lying to dis- 

II. 


13S 


WAVE RLE Y. 


guise it.” Callum received the blow without appearing 
to flinch from it, and fell without sign of life. “ Stand 
still, upon your lives,” said Fergus to the rest of the 
clan ; “ 1 blow out the brains of tlie first man who in 
terferes between Mr. VVaverley and me.” They stood 
motionless ; Evan Dim alone showed symptoms of vex- 
ation and anxiety. Callum lay on the ground bleeding 
copiously, but no one ventured to give him any assist- 
ance. It seemed as if ho had gotten his death-blow.” 

“And now for you, Mr.Waverley ; please to turn your 
horse twenty yards with me upon the common.” VVa- 
verley complied ; and Fergus, confronting him when 
they were a little way from the line of march, said, with 
great affected coolness, “ J could not but wonder, sir, 
at the fickleness of taste which you were pleased to ex- 
press the other day. But it was not an angel, as you 
justly observed, who had charms for you, unless she 
brought an empire for her fortune. 1 have now an ex- 
cellent commentary upon that obscure text.” 

“ I am at a loss even to guess at your meaning. Colo- 
nel Mac-Ivor, unless it seems plain that you intend to 
fasten a quarrel upon me.” 

“ Your affected ignorance shall not serve you, sir. 
The Prince, — the Prince himself has acquainted me 
with your manoeuvres. I little thought that your en- 
gagements with Miss Bradwardine were the reason of 
your breaking off your intended match with my sister. 
I suppose the information that the Baron had altered the 
destination of his estate, was quite a sufficient reason 
for slighting your friend’s sister, and carrying off your 
friend’s mistress.” 

“ Did the Prince tell you I was engaged to Miss 
Bradwardine ?” said Waverley. “ Impossible.” 

“ He did, sir,” answered Mac-Ivor ; “ so, either draw 
and defend yourself, or resign your pretensions to the lady.” 

“ This is absolute madness,” exclai. ned VV^iverley, 
“ or some strange mistake !” 

“ O ! no evasion ! draw your sword, ’ said the infu- 
riated Chieftain, — his own already unsheadied. 


WAVliRLEY. 


130 


“ Must 1 fight in' a madman’s quarrel ?” 

“ Then give up now, and for ever, all pretensions to 
Miss Bradwardine’s hand.” 

“ What title have you,” cried Waverley, utterly losing 
command of himself, “ what title have you, or any man 
living, to dictate such terms to me And he also 
drew his sword. 

At this moment, the Baron of Bradwardine, followed 
by several of his troop, came up on the spur, some 
from curiosity, others to take part in the quarrel, which 
they indistinctly understood had broken out between the 
Mac-lvors and their corps. The clan, seeing them ap- 
proach, put themselves in motion to support their Chief- 
tain, and a scene of confusion commenced, which seem- 
ed likely to terminate in bloodshed. A hundred tongues 
were in motion at once. The Baron lectured, the Cliief- 
tain stormed, the Highlanders screamed in Gaelic, the 
horsemen cursed and swore in Lowland Scotch. At 
length matters came to such a pass, that the Baron 
threatened to charge the Mac-Ivors unless they resumed 
their ranks, and many of them, in return, jirescnted their 
fire-arms at him and the other troopers. The confusion 
was privately fostered by old Ballenkeiroch, who made 
no doubt that his own day of vengeance was arrived, 
when, behold ! a cry arose of “ Room ! Make way ! 
place a JSlonseigneur ! place a Monseignenr This 
announced the approach of the Prince, who vame up 
with a p^^ty of Fitz-James’s foreign dragoons that acted 
as his botTy guard. His arrival produced some degree 
of order. The Highlanders re-assumed their ranks, the 
cavalry fell in and formed squadron, and the Baron and 
Chieftain were silent. 

The .Prince called them and Waverley before him. 
Having heard the original cause of the quariel through 
the villany of Callum Beg, he ordered him into custody 
of the provost-marshal for immediate execution, in the 
event of his surviving the chastisement inflicted by his 
Chieftain. Fergus, however, in a lone betwixt claiming 
a right and asking a favour, requested he might be left 


HO 


WAVE RLE Y. 


to his disposal, and promised his punishment should be 
exemplary. To deny this might haYm seemed to en- 
croacii on the patriarchal authority of the Cliieftains, of 
which they were very jealous, and they were not per- 
sons to be disobli<»:ed. Callum was therefore left to the 
justice of his own tribe. 

The Prince next demanded to know the new cause oi 
quarrel between Colonel I\lac-lyor and Waverley. 
There was a pause. Both gentlemen found the pres- 
ence of the- Baron of ]h*adwardine (for by this time all 
three had approached the Chevalier by his command) 
an insurmountable barrier against entering upon a sub- 
ject where the name of his daughter must unavoidably 
be mentioned. They turned their eyes on the ground, 
with looks in wiiich shame and embarrassment were min- 
gled with displeasure. The Prince, who had been edu- 
cated among the discontented and mutinous spirits of* 
the court of St. Germains, where feuds of every kind 
were the daily subject of solicitude to the dethroned sov- 
ereign, had served his ajij)reniiceship, as old Frederick 
of Prussia would have said, to the trade of royalty. To 
promote or restore concord among his followers was in- 
dispensable. Accordingly he took his measures. 

“ iNIonsieur de l^eaujeau !” 

“ Monseigneur !” said a very handsome French cav* 
airy officer, who was in attendance. 

“ Ayez la bonte d’aliigner ces montagnards la, ainsi 
que la cavalerie, s’il vous plait, et de les rejyeltre a la 
rnarche. Vous parlez si bien I’Anglois, cela ne vous 
donneroit pas beaucoup de peine.” 

“ Ah ! pas de tout, Monseigneur,” replied Mons. le 
Compte de Beaujeau, his head bending down to the neck 
of his little prancing highly-managed charger. Accord- 
ingly he piaffed away in high spirits and confidence to 
the head of Fergus’s regiment, although understanding 
not a word of Gaelic, and very little Fhiglish. 

“ Messieurs les sauvages Ecossois — dat is — gentle- 
mans savages, have the goodness d’arranger vous.” 


^WAVERLEY. 


14i 


Tile clan, comprehending the order more from the 
gesture than the words, and seeing the Prince himsell 
present, hastened to dress tlieir ranks. 

“ Ah ! ver well ! dat is fort bien !” said the Count de 
Beaujeau. “ Gentilmans sauvages — mais, ties bien — 
Eh bien ! — Qu’ est ce qiie vous appellez visage. Mon- 
sieur (to a lounging trooper who stood by him) “ Ah, 
oui ! face — Je vous remercie, Monsieur. — Gentilshom- 
mes, have de goodness to make de face to de right par 
file, dat is, by files, — Marsh ! — Mais, tres bien — encore, 
Messieurs ; il faut vous mettre a la marche . . . Marchez 
done, au nom de Dieu, pareeque j’ai oubiie le mot 
Anglois — mais vous etes des braves gens, et me com- 
prenez tres bien.” 

The Count next hastened to put the cavalry in motion. 
“ Gentilmens cavalrie, you must fall in — Ah ! par ma 
foi, 1 did not say fall off ! I am a fear de little gross fat 
gentilman is moche hurt. Ah, mon dieu ! C’est le 
Commissaire qui nous a apporte les premieres iiouvelles 
de cet maudit fracas. Je suis trop fachc, Rfonsieur !” 

But poor Macwheeble, who, with a sword stuck across 
him, and a white cockade as large as a pan-cake, now 
figured in the character of a commissary, being over- 
turned in the bustle occasioned by the troopers hastening 
to get themselves in order in the Prince’s presence, be- 
fore he could rally his galloway, slunk to the rear amid 
the unrestrained laughter of the spectators. 

Eh bien. Messieurs, wheel to de right — Ah ! dat is 
it ! — Eh, Monsieur de Bradwardine, ayez la bonte de 
vous mettre a la tete de votre regiment, car, par dieu, 
je n’en puis plus !” 

The Baron of Bradwardine was obliged to go to the 
assistance of Monsieur de Beaujeau, alter he had fairly 
expended his few English military phrases. One pur- 
pose of the Chevalier was thus answered. The other 
he proposed was, that in the eagerness to hear and com- 
preliend commands issued through such an indistinct mo- 
dinr"' in. his own presence, the thoughts of the soldiers in 


142 


WAVE RLE Y. 


both corps might get a current different from the angry 
channel in wlucli liiey were flowing at the time. 

Charles Edward was no sooner lelt with the Chieftain 
and VVaverley, the rest of his attendants being at some 
distance, than he said, “ Jf 1 owed less to your disinter- 
ested friendship, I could be most seriously angry with 
both of you for this very extraordinary and caustdess 
broil, at a moment when my father’s service so decided- 
ly demands the most perfect unanimity. But the worst 
of my situation is, that my very best friends hold they 
have liberty to ruin themselves, as well as the cause they 
are engaged in, upon the slightest caprice.” 

Both the young men protested their resolution to sub- 
mit every difference to his arbitration. “ Indeed,” said 
Edward, •“ 1 hardly know of what I am accused. 1 
sought Colonel Mac-Iv'or jnerely to mention to him that 1 
had narrowly escaped assassination at the hand of his im- 
mediate dependant, a dastardly revenge, which I knew him 
to be incapable of authorizing. As to the cause for which 
he is disposed to fasten a quarrel upon me, I am ignorant 
of it, unless it be that he accuses me, most unjustly, of 
liaving engaged the affections of a young lady in preju- 
dice-of his pretensions.” 

“ If there is an error,” said the Chieftain, “ it arises 
from a conversation which 1 held this morning with his 
Royal Highness himself.” 

“ With me said the Chevalier “ how can Colonel 
Mac-Ivor have so far misunderstood me ?” 

He then led Fergus aside, and, after five minutes earn- 
est conversation, spurred his horse towards Edward. 
“ Is it possible — nay, ride up. Colonel, for I desire no 
secrets — Is it possible, Mr. Waverley, that I am mistaken 
in supposing that you are an accepted lover of Miss 
Bradwardine ? a fiict of which I was by circumstances, 
though not by communication from you, so absolutely 
convinced, that I alleged it to Vich Ian Vohr this morn- 
ing as a reason why, without offence to him, you might 
not continue to be ambitious of an alliance, \^nch to an 


WAVERLET. 


H3 

unengaged person, even thoiigli once repulsed, holds out 
too many {‘harms to be ligluly laid aside.” 

“ Your Royal Highness,” said VVaverley, “must have 
founded on circumstances altogether unknown to me, 
when you did me the distinguished honour of supposing 
me an accepted lover of Miss Bradwardine. 1 feel the 
distinction implied in the supposition, but 1 have no title 
to it. For the rest, my confidence in my own merit is 
too justly slight to admit of my hoping for success in 
any quarter after positive rejection.” 

The Chevalier was silent for a moment, looking stead- 
ily at them both, and then said, “ Upon my word, Mr. 
VVaverley, you are a less happy man than 1 conceived I 
had very good reason to believe you. But now, gentle- 
men, allow me to be uinpire in this matter, not as Prince 
Regent, hut as Charles Stuart, a brother adventurer with 
you in the same gallant cause* I^ay my pretensions to 
be obeyed by you entirely out of view, and consider your 
own iionour, and how far it is well, or becoming, to give 
our enemies the advantage, and onr friends the scandal, 
of showing that, few' as we are, we are not united. And 
forgive me if I add, that tlie names of the ladies who have 
been mentioned, crave more respeei from us all titan to 
be made themes of discord. 

He took Fergus a little apart, and spoke to him very 
earnestly for two or three minutes, and then returning to 
VVaverley, said, “ 1 believe 1 have satisfied Colonel Mac- 
Ivor, that his resentment was founded upon a misconcep- 
tion, to which, indeed, I myself gave rise ; and 1 trust 
Mr. VVaverley is too generous to harbour any recollec- 
tion of what is past, when I assure him that such is the 
f-ase.— You must state this matter properly to your clan, 
Vich Jan V^ohr, to prevent a recurrence of their precip- 
itate vivilonce.” Fergus bowed. “ And now, gentle- 
men, let me have the pleasure to see you shake hands.” 

They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each 
apparently reluctant to appear iriost forward in conces- 
sion. They did however shake hands, and parted, taking 
a respectful leave of the Chevalier. 


144 


WAVERLEY. 


Charles Edward^lhenrode to the head of the IMac- 
Ivors, threw himself from his horse, begged a drink out 
of old Ballenkeiroch’s cantine, and marched about half 
a mile along with them, inquiring into the history and 
connections of Sliochd nan Ivor, adroitly using the few 
words of Gaelic he possessed, and afiecting a great de- 
sire to learn it more thoroughly. He then mounted his 
horse once more, and galloped to the Baron’s cavalry, 
which was in front, halted them, and examined their ac- 
coutrements and state of discipline ; took notice of the 
principal gentlemen, and even of the cadets ; inquired 
after their ladies, and commended their horses ; rode 
about an hour with the Baron of Bradwardine, and en- 
dured three long stories about Field-Marshal the Duke 
of Berwick. 

“ Ah, Beaujeau, mon cher ami,” said he, as he return- 
ed to his usual place in the line of march, “ quo mon 
metier de prince errant est ennuyant,par fois. Mais 
courage ! c’est le grand jeu, apres tout.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Ji Skirmish, 

The reader need hardly be reminded, that, after a 
council of war held at Derby on the 5th of December, 
the Highlanders relinquished their desperate attempt to 
penetrate farther into England, and, greatly to the dis- 
satisfaction of their young and daring leader, positively 
determined to return northward. They commenced 
their retreat accordingly, and, by the extreme celerity of 
tneir movements, outstripped the ttjolions of the Dulce of 
Cumberland, who now pursued them with u very large 
body of cavalry. 


wavehlet. 


146 


-This retreat was a virtual resignation of their tower- 
ing hope?. None iiad been so sanguine as Fergus ]\Iac- 
Ivor ; none, consequently, was so cruelly mortified at the 
change of measures. He argued, or rather remonstrat- 
ed, with the utmost vehemence at the council of war ; 
and, when his opinion was rejected, shed tears of grief 
and indignation. From that moment his whole manner 
was so much altered, that he could scarcely have been 
recognized for the same soaring and ardent spirit, for 
whom the whole earth seemed too narrow but a week be- 
fore. The retreat had continued for several days, when 
Edward, to his surprise, early on the 12th of December, 
received a visit from the Chieftain in his quarters, in a 
hamlet about half way between Shap and Penrith. 

Having had no intercourse with the Chieftain since 
their rupture, Edward waited with some anxiety an ex- 
planation of this unexpected visit ; nor could he help 
being surprised, and somewhat shocked, with the change 
in his appearance. His eye had lost much of its fire ; 
his cheek was hollow, his voice was languid, even his 
gait seemed less firm and elastic than it was wont ; and 
his dress, to which he used to be particularly attentive, 
was now carelessly flung about him. He invited Ed- 
ward to walk out with him by the little river in the vicin- 
ity ; and smiled in a melancholy manner when he ob- 
serv^ed him take down and buckle on his sword. 

As soon as they were in a wild sequestered path by 
the side of the stream, the Chief broke out — “ Our fine 
adventure is now totally ruined, Waverley, and 1 wish to 
know what you intend to do : — nay, never stare at me, 
man. I tell you I received a packet from my sister 
yesterday, and, liad I got the information it contains 
sooner, it would have prevented a quarrel, which 1 am 
always vexed when I think of. In a letter written after 
our dispute, I acquainted her with the cause of it ; and 
she now replies to me, that she never had, nor could have, 
any purpose of giving you encouragement ; so that it 
seems I have acted like a madman. — Poor Flora I she 


VOL. II. 


uo 


WAVERLEY* 


UTites in high spirits ; what a change will the news of 
this unhappy retreat make in her state of mind 1” 

Waverley, who was really much affected by the deep 
tone of melancholy with wliich Fergus spoke, affection- 
ately entreated him to banish from his remembrance any 
unkindness which had arisen between them, and they 
once more shook hands, but now with sincere cordiality. 
Fergus again inquired of Waverley what he intended to 
do. Had you not better leave this luckless army, and 
get down before us into Scotland, and embark for the 
continent from some of the eastern ports that are still in 
our possession ^ When you are out of the kingdom, 
your friends will easily negotiate your pardon ; and, to 
tell you the truth, 1 wish you would carry Rose Brad- 
warciine with you as your wife, and take Flora also under 
your joint protection.” — Edward looked surprised — 
“ She loves you, and 1 believe you love her, though, 
perhaps,' you have not found it out, for you are not cele- 
brated for knowing your own mind very poirrtedly.” He 
said this with a sort of smile. 

“ How,” answered Edward, “ can you advise me to 
desert the expedition in which we are all embarked 

“ Embarked i”’ said Fergus, “ the vessel is going to 
pieces, and it is full time for all who can to get into the 
longboat and leave her.” 

“ Why, what'will other gentlemen do ?” answered 
Waverley, “ and why did the Highland Chiefs consent 
to tiiis retreat, if it is so ruinous ?” 

“ O,” replied Mac-lvor, “ they think that, as on former 
occasions, the heading, hanging, and forfeiting, will chiefly 
fall to the lot of the Lowland gentry ; that they will be left 
secure in their poverty and their fastnesses, there, accord- 
ing to their proverb, ‘ to listen to the wind upon the hill til) 
the waters abate.’ But they will be disappointed ; they 
have been too often troublesome to be so repeatedly pas- 
sed over, and this time John Bull has been too heartily 
frightened to recover his good humour for some time. 
The Hanoverian ministers always deserved to be hanged 
for rascals ; but now, if they get the power in their hands. 


WAVRULEY. 


147. 


—as, sooner or later, they must, since there is neither ris- 
ing in England nor assistance from Franc,e, — they will de 
servo the gallows as fools, if they leave a single clan in the 
Highlands in a situation to he again troublesome to gov- 
ernment. Ay, they will make root-and-branch-work, 1 
warrant them.” 

“ And wliile you recommend fligln to me,” — said Ed- 
ward, “ a counsel which 1 would rather die than embrace, 
— what are your own views * 4 ^ 

“ O,” answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, “ my fate 
is settled. Dead or captive J must be before to-morrow’.” 

“ What do you mean by ’that, my friend.^” said Ed- 
ward. “ riie enemy is still a day’s march in our rear, 
and if he comes up, we are still strong enough to keep 
him in check. Remember Gladsmuir.” 

“ What I tell you is true notwithstanding, so far as I 
am individually concerned.” 

“ Upon what authority can you found so melancholy a 
predic-tion .^” asked Waverley. ’ ' 

“ On one which never failed a person of my house. 
I have seen,” he said, lowering his voice, “ 1 have seen 
the Bodach Glas.” 

“ Bodach Glas 

“ Yes : Have you been so long at Glennaquoich, and 
never heard of the Grey Spectre ^ though indeed there 
is a certain reluctance among us to mention him.” 

“ No, never.” 

“ Ah ! it would hav^e been a tale for poor I’lora to 
have told you. Or if that hill were Benmore, and that 
long blue lake, which you see just winding towards yon 
mountainoifs country, were Loch Tay, or my own Loch 
an Ri, the tale would be better suited with scenery. 
However, let us sit down on this knoll ; even Saddleback 
and Ulswater will suit what 1 have to say better than the 
English hedgerows, inclosures, and farm-houses. You 
must know, then, that when my ancestor, Ian nan Chais- 
tel, wasted Northumberland, there w'as associated with 
him in the expedition a sort of Southland Chief, or cap- 
tain of a band of Lowlanders, called Halbert Hall. In 


148 


WAVERLEY. 


their return through the Cheviots, they quarrelled about 
the division of the great booty they had acquired, and 
came from words to blows. The Lowlaiiders were cut 
off to a man, and their cliief fell the last covered with 
wounds by the sword of my ancestor. Since that time, 
his spirit has crossed the Vich Ian Vohr of ilie day when 
any great disaster was impending, but especially before 
approaching death. My father saw him twice ; once 
before he was made prisoner at Sheriff-Muir ; another 
time on the morning of the day on which he died.” 

“ How can you, my dear Fergus, tell such nonsense 
with a grave face 

“ I do not ask you to believe it ; but 1 tell you the 
truth, ascertained by three hundred years experience at 
least, and last night by my own eyes.” 

“ The particulars, for heaven’s sake !” said Waverley, 
with eagerness. 

“ 1 will, on condition you will not attempt a jest on 
the subject. — Since tliis unhappy retreat commenced, I 
have scarce ever been able to sleep for thinking of my 
clan, and of this poor Prince, whom they are leading 
back like a dog in a string, whether he will or no, and 
of the downfall of my family. Last night I felt so 
feverish that I left my quarters, and walked out in hopes 
the keen frosty air would brace my nerves — 1 cannot tell 
how much 1 dislike going on, for 1 know you will hardly 
believe me. However — I crossed a small foot-bridge, 
and kept walkingbackwards and forwards, when T observed 
with surprise, by the clear moonlight, a tall figure in a 
grey plaid, such as shepherds wear in the .south of Scot** 
land, which, move at what pace I would, kept regularly 
about four yards before me.” 

“ You saw a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary 
dress, probably.” 

“ No : I thought so at first, and was astonished at the 
man’s audacity in daring to dog me. I called to him, 
but received no answer. 1 feit an anxious throbbing at 
my heart, and to ascertain what J dreaded, I stood still 
and turned myself on the same spot successively to the 
four points of the compass — By Heaven, Edward, turn 


W AVETIl,r.T. 


149 


where I would, the figure was instantly before my eyes, 
at precisely tlie same distance ! 1 was then convinced it 
was the Bodach Glas. My hair bristled, and rny knees 
shook. 1 manned myself, however, and determined to 
return to my quarters. My ghastly visitant glided bel'ore 
me, -(for 1 cannot say he walked,) until he reached the 
foot-bridge : there he stopped, and turned full round. 
1 must either wade the river, or pass him as close as I 
am to you. A desperate courage, founded on the belief 
tliat my death was near, made me resolve to make my 
way in despite of him. 1 made tlte sign of the cross, 
drew my sword, and uttered, ‘ In the name of God, 
Evil Spirit, give place !’ ‘ V^ich Ian Vohr,’ it said, in a 
voice that inade my very blood curdle, ‘ beware of to- 
morrow !’ It seemed at that moment not half a yard 
from my sword’s point ; but the words were no sooner 
spoken tlian it was gone, and nothing appeared further 
to obstruct my passage, i got home, and threw myself 
on my bed, where I spent a few hours heavily enough ; 
and this morning, as no enemy was reported to be near 
us, I took my horse, and rode forward to make up mat- 
ters will] you. 1 would not willingly fall until I am in 
charity with a wronged friend.” 

Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the op- 
eralioi] of an exhausted frame and depressed spirits, 
working on the belief common to all Highlanders in such 
superstitions. He did not the less pity Fergtis, for whom, 
in his present distress, he felt all his former regard re- 
vive. With the view of diverting his mind from these 
gloomy images, he ofrered, with the Baron’s permission, 
which he knew he could readily obtain, to remain in his 
quarters till Fergus’s corps should come up, and then to 
march with them as usual. The Chief seemed much 
pleased, yet hesitated to accept the offer. 

“ We are, you know, in the rear — the post of dangei 
in a retreat.” 

And therefore the post of honour.” 

VOL. II. 


15U 


avavrrlky. 


Wed,” replied the chieftain, “ let A lick have your 
horse In readiness, in case we should be over-inatched, 
and j shall he deliirhied to liave your company once more.” 

The rear-guard were late in making their appearance, 
having been delayed by various accidents, and by the 
badness of the roads. At length they entered theji.am- 
let. When Waverley joined the clan Mac -Ivor, arm-in- 
arm with their Chieftain, alTthe resentment they had en- 
tertained against him seemed blown off at once. Evan 
Dhn received him with a grin of congratulation ; and 
even Callum, who was running about as active as ever, 
pale indeed, and with a great patch on his head, ap- 
peared delighted to see him. 

“ That gallows-bird’s skull,” said Fergus, must be 
harder than marble : the lock of the pistol was actually 
broken.” 

“ How could you strike so young a lad so hard said 
Waverley, with some interest. 

“ Why, if J did not strike hard sometimes, the rascals 
woidd forget themselves.” 

They were now in full march, every caution being 
taken to prevent surprise. Fergus’s people, and a fine 
clan-regiment from Badenoch, commanded by Cluny 
Maepherson, had the rear. They had passed a large 
open moor, and were entering into the inclosures which 
surround a small village called Cliftorl. The winter sun 
had set, and Edward began to rall}^ Fergus upon the 
false predictions of the Grey Spirit. “ The ides of 
March are not past,” said Mac-1 vor, with a smile ; when, 
suddenly casting his eyes back on the moor, a large body 
of cavalry was indistinctly seen to hover upon its brown 
and dark surface. To line the inclosures facing the open 
ground, and the road by which the enemy must move 
ffom it upon the village, was the work of a short time. 
While these manoeuvres were accomplishing, night sunk 
down, dark and gloomy, though the moon was at full. 
Sometimes, however, she gleamed forth a dubious light 
upon the scene of action. 

The Highlanders did not long remain undisturbed in 
die defensive position they had adopted. Favoured by 


WAVE RLE Y. 


151 


the night, one large body of dismounted dragoons attempt- 
ed to force the inclosures, while another, equally strong, 
strove to penetrate by the high-road. Both were receivecl 
by such a heavy fire as disconcerted their ranks, and efFec-* 
lually checked their progress. Unsatisfied with the advan- 
tage thus gained, Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the ap- 
proach of danger seemed to restore all its elasticity, drawing 
his sword, and calling out “ Claymore !” encouraged his 
men, by voice and example, to break through the hedge 
winch divided them, and rush dowm upon the enemy. 
iMingling with the dismounted dragoons, they forced them, 
at the sword-point, to fly to the open moor, where a consid- 
erable number were cut to pieces. But the moon, which 
suddenly shone out, showed to the English the small num- 
ber of assailants, disordered by their own succe^. Two 
squadrons of horse moving to the support of their compan- 
ions, the Highlanders endeavoured to recover the inclo- 
sures. But several of them, among others their brave 
Chieftain, were cut off and surrounded before they could 
effect their purpose. Waverley, looking eagerly lor Fer- 
gus, from whom, as well as from the retreating body of his 
followers, he had been separated in the darkness and tumult, 
saw' him, w ith Evan Dhu and Callum, defending themselves 
desperately against a dozen of horsemen, who were hew- 
ing at them wdth their long broadswords. The moon was 
again at that moment totally overclouded, and Edward, 
in the obscurity, could neither bring aid to his friends, 
nor discover which way lay his own road to rejoin the 
rear-guard. After once or twdee narrowly escaping being 
slain or made prisoner by parties of the cavalry whom 
he encountered in the darkness, he at length reached an 
inclosure, and, clambering over it, concluded himself in 
safety, and on the way to the Highland forces, whose 
pipes he beard at some distance. For Fergus hardly a 
hope remained, unless that he might be made prisoner. 
Revolving his fate with sorrow and anxiety, the supersti- 
tion of the Bodach Glas recurred to Edw^ard’s recol- 
lection, and he said to himself, with internal surprise, 
“ What, can the devil speak truth 


152 


WAVERLET. 


CHAPTER xxrv^ 

Chapter of Jiccidents, 

Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous sit- 
uation. He soon lost the sound of the bagpipes ; and, 
what was yet more unpleasant, when, after searching long 
n vain, and scrambling through many inclosures, he at 
length aj)proached the high-road, he learned, from the 
unwelcome noise of keitle-tlrums and trumpets, that the 
English ^.avalry now occupied it, and consequently were 
between him and the Highlanders. Precluded, there- 
fore, from advancing in a straight direction, he resolved 
to avoid the English military, and endeavoured to join 
his friends, by making a circuit to the left, for which a 
beaten path, deviating from the main road in that direc- 
tion, seemed to afibrd facilities. The path was muddy, 
and the night dark and cold ; but even these inconven- 
iences were hardly felt amidst the apprehensions which 
falling into the hands of the King’s forces reasonably 
excited in his bosom. 

After walking about three miles, he at length reached 
a hamlet. Conscious that the common people were in 
general unfavourable to the cause he had espoused, yet 
desirous, if possible, to procure a horse and guide to Pen- 
rith, where he hoped to find the rear, if not the main 
body of the Chevalier’s army, he approached the ale- 
house of the place. There was a great noise within . 
He paused to listen. A round English oath or two, 
and the burden of a campaign song, convinced him the 
hamlet also was occupied by the Duke of Cumberland’s 
soldiers. Endeavouring to retire from it as softly as pos- 
sible, and blessing the obscurity which hitherto he had 
murmured against, Waverley groped his way the best he 
could along a small paling, which seemed the boundary 


■WAVEllLEY. 


163 


nf some cottage garden. Ashe reached the gate of this 
little inclosure, his outstretched hand was grasped by 
that of a female, whose voice at the same time uttered, 
“ Edward, is’t thou, man 

“ Here is some unlucky mistake,” thought Edward, 
struggling, but gently, to disengage himself. 

“ Naeii o’ thy foun, now, man, or the red-coats will 
hear thee ; they hae been houlerying and poulerying 
every ane that past ale-house-door this noight to make 
them drive their w^agons and sick loike. Come into fey- 
ther’s, or they’ll do ho a mischief.” 

“ A good hint,” thought Waverley, following the girl 
through the little garden into a brick -paved kitchen, where 
she set herself to kindle a n^tch at an expiring fire, 
and with the match to light a candle. She had no sooner 
looked on Edward, than she dropped the light, with a 
shrill scream of “ O feyther, feyther !” 

The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared — a sturdy 
old fanner, in a pair of leather breeches, and boots pull- 
ed on without stockings, having just started from his bed ; 
the rest of his dress was only a Westmoreland states- 
man’s robe-de-chambre, that is, his shirt. His figure 
was displayed to advantage, by a candle which he bore 
in Ins left hand ; in his right he brandished a poker. 

“ What hast ho here, wrench .^” 

“ O !” cried the poor girl, almost going off in hyster- 
ics, “ I thought it was Ned Williams, and it is one of the 
plaid-men.” 

“ And what was thee ganging to do wi’ Ned Williams 
at this time o’ noight To this, which was, perhaps, 
one of the numerous class of questions more easily ask- 
ed than answered, the rosy-cheeked damsel made nc 
reply, but continued sobbing and wringing her hands. 

“ And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a 
town ? dost ho know that, mon ? ad, they’ll sliver thee 
loike a turnip, mon.” 

‘ I know my life is in great danger,” said Waverley, 
but if you can assist me, I will reward you handsomely. 


154 


WAVE RLE Y. 


[ am no Scotchman, but an unfortunate English gentle- 
man.” 

“ Be ho Scot or no,” said the honest farmer, I wish 
thou hadst kept the other side of tlie hallar. . But since 
thou art here, Jacob Jopson will betray no man’s bluid ; 
and the plaids were gay canny, and did not do so much 
mischief when they were here yesterday.” According- 
ly, he set seriously about sheltering and refreshing our 
hero for the night. The fire was speedily rekindled, but 
with precaution against its light being seen from without. 
The jolly yeoman cut a rasher of bacon, which Cicely 
soon broiled, and her father added a swingeing tankard 
of his best ale. It was settled, that Edward should re- 
main there till the troops marched in the morning, then 
hire or buy a horse from the farmer, and, with the best 
directions that could be obtained, endeavour to overtake 
his friends. A clean, though coarse bed, received him 
after the fatigues of this unhappy day. 

With the morning arrived the news that the Highland- 
ers had evacuated Penrith, and marched off towards 
Carlisle ; that the Duke of Cumberland was in posses- 
sion of Penrith, and that detachments of his army cov- 
ered the roads in every direction. To attempt to get 
through undiscovered would be an act of the most fran- 
tic temerity. Ned Williams (the right Edward) was 
now called to council by Cicely and her father. Ned, 
who perhaps did not care that his handsome namesake 
should remain too long in the same house with his sweet- 
heart, for fear of fresh mistakes, proposed thatWaverley 
exchanging his uniform and plaid for the dress of the 
country, should go with him to his father’s farm near 
Ulswaier, and remain in that undisturbed retirement until 
the military movements in the country should have ceas- 
ed to render his departure hazardous. A price was also 
agreed upon, at which the stranger might board with 
Farmer Williams, if he thought proper, till he could de- 
part with safety. It was of moderate amount ; the distress 
of his situation, among this honest and simple-hearted 


AVAVERJLEY. 


15.5 


race, being considered as no reason for increasing their 
deinand. 

The necessary articles of dress were accordingly pro- 
cured, and, by following bye-paths, known to the young 
farmer, they hoped to escape any unpleasant rencontre. 
A recompense for their hospitality was refused })erempto- 
rily by old Jopson and his cherry-cheeked daughter ; a 
kiss paid the one, and a lieaity shake of the hand the 
other. Both seemed anxious for their guest’s safety, 
and took leave of him wit|i kind wishes. 

In the course ol their route, Edward, with his guide, 
traversed those fields which the night before had been 
the scene ol action. A brief gleam of December’s sun 
shone sadly on the broad heath, which towards the spot 
where the great north-west road entered the inclosures 
of Lord Lonsdale’s property, exhibited dead bodies of 
men and horses, and the usual companions .of war, a 
number of carrion-crows, hawks, and ravens. 

“ And this, then, was thy last field,” said VVaverley to 
himself,his eye filling at the recollection of the many splen- 
did points of Fergus’s character, and of their former inti- 
macy, all liis jtassions and imperfections forgotten — “ here 
fell the last Vich Tan Vohr, on a nameless heath ; and in an 
obscure night-skirmish was quenched that ardent spirit, 
who thought it little to cut a way for his master to the 
l^ritish throne ’ Ambition, policy, bravery, all far beyond 
their sphere, here learned the fate of mortals. — The sole 
suppoi't, too, of a sister, whose spirit, as proud and un- 
bending, was even more exalted than thirie own ; here 
ended all thy hopes for Flora, and the long and valued 
line which it was thy boast to raise yet more highly by 
thy adv^enturous valour!” 

As these ideas pressed on Waverley’s mind, he resolv- 
ed to go upon the open heath, and search if, among the 
slain, he could discover the body of his friend, with the 
pious intention of procuring for him the last rites of sep- 
ulture. The timorous young man who accompanied him, 
remonstrated upon the danger of the attempt, but Ed- 
ward was determined. The followers of the camp had 


156 


WAVERLEY. 


alroady stripped the dead of all they could carry away ^ 
hut the country-people, unused to scenes of blood, had 
not yet approached the field of action, thougli soiue stood 
fearfully gazing at a distance. About sixty or seventy 
dragoons lay slain within the first inclosure, upon the 
iiigh-road, and on the open moor. Of the Highland- 
ers, not above a dozen had fallen, chiefly those who, ven- 
turins: too far on the moor, could not regain the strong 
ground. He could not find the body of Fergus among 
the slain. On a little knoll, separated from the others, 
lay the carcasses of three English dragoons, two horses, 
and the page Callum Beg, whose hard skull a trooper's 
broad-sword had, at length, effectually cloven. It was 
possible his clan had carried off' the body of Fergus ; 
but it was also possible he had escaped, especially as 
Evan Dhu, who would never leave his Chief, was not 
found amfiuig the dead ; or he might be prisoner, and the 
less formidable denunciation inferred from the appearance 
of the Bodach Glas might have proved the true one. 
The approach of a party, sent for the purpose of com- 
pelling the country-peoj>le to bury the dead, and who had 
already assembled several *peasants for that purpose, now 
obliged Edward to rejoin his guide, wlio awaited him in 
great anxiety and fear under shade of the plantations. 

After leaving this field of death, the rest of tlieir journey 
was happily accomplished. At the house of Farmer Wil- 
liams, Edward passed for a young kinsman, educated for 
the church, who was come to reside there till the civil 
tumults permitted him to pass through the country. This 
silenced suspicion among the kind and simple yeomanry 
of Cumberland, and accounted sufficiently for the grave 
manners and retired habits of the new guest. The pre- 
caution became more necessary than Waverley had an- 
ticipated, as a variety of incidents prolonged his stay at 
F'asthwaite, as the farm was called., 

A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure im- 
possible for more than ten days. When the roads began 
to become a little practicable, they successively received 
news of the retreat of the Chevalier into Scotland ; then, 


WAVE RLE Y. 


167 


llint he had abandoned the frontiers, retiring upon Glas- 
gow ; and that the Duke of Cumberland had formed the 
siege of Csi lisle. His army, therefore, cut off all pos- 
siiulity (>i Waverley’s escaping into Scotland in that di- 
rection. On the eastern border, INhirshal Wade, with a 
large force, was advancing upon Edinburgh, and all along 
tile fruntier, parties of militia, volunteers, and partizans, 
were in arms to suppress insurrection, and apprehend 
Slid; stragglers from the Higliland army as had been left 
111 England. The surrender of Carlisle, and the sever- 
ity witli which the rebel garrison were threatened, soon 
tormed an additional reason against venturing upon a sol- 
itary and hopeless journey through a hostile country and 
a large army, to carry the assistance of a single sword to 
a cause which seemed altogether desperate. 

In this lonely and secluded situation, without the ad- 
vantage of company or conversation with men of culti- 
vated minds, the arguments of Colonel Talbot often re- 
curred to the mind of our hero. A still more anxious 
recollection haunted his slumbers — it was the dying look 
and gesture of Colonel Gardiner. Most devoutly did he 
hope, as the rarely occurring post brought news of skir- 
mishes wdth various success, that it might never again be 
his lot to draw his sword in civ'l conflict. Then liis mind 
turned to the supposed death of Fergus, to the desolate 
situation of Flora, and, with yet more tender recollection, 
to that of Rose Bradw'ardiue, who was destitute of the 
devoted enthusiasm of loyalty, which, to her friend, 
hallowed and exalted misfortune. These reveries he 
was permitted to enjoy,' undisturbed by queries or inter- 
ruption ; and it was in many a winter walk by the shores 
of Ulswater, that he acquired a more complete mastery 
of a spirit tamed by adversity, than his former experience 
had given him ; and that he felt himself entitled to say 
firmly, though perhaps with a sigh, that the romance ot 
his life was ended, and that its real history had now com- 
menced. He was soon called upon to justi-fy his pre- 
tensions by reason and philosophy. 

21 VOL n. 


I5S 


WAVERLBY. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

J] Journey to London, 

The family at Fasthwaite were soon attached to Ed- 
ward. He had, indeed, that gentleness and urbaniry 
which almost universally attracts corresponding kindness, 
and to their simple ideas his learning gave him conse- 
quence, and his sorrows interest. The last he ascribed, 
evasively, to the loss of a brother in the skirmish near 
Clifton ; and in that primitive state of society, where the 
ties of affection were highly deemed of, his continued 
depression excited sympathy, but not surprise. 

In the end of January, his more lively powers were 
called out by the hajipy union of Edward Williams, the 
son of his host, wirli Cicely Jopson. Our hero would 
not cloud with sorrow the festivity attending the wed- 
ding of two' persons to whom he was so highly obliged. 
He therefore exerted himself, danced, sung, played at 
the various games of the day, and was the blithest of the 
company. The next morning, however, he had more 
serious matters to think of. 

The clergyman who had married the young couple, 
was so much pleased with the supposed student of di- 
vinity, that he came next day from Penrith on purpose 
to pay him a visit. This might have been a puzzling 
chapter, had he entered into any examination of our he- 
ro’s supposed theological studies ; but fortunately he 
loved better to hear and communicate the news of the 
day. He brought with him two or three old newspapers, 
in one of which Edward found a piece of intelligence 
that soon rendered him deaf to every word wliich the 
Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the news 
from the north, and the prospect of the Duke’s speedily 


WAVE RLE Y. 


159 


overtaking and crushing the rebels. This was an article 
in these, or nearly these words : 

“ Died at his house, in Hill Street, Berkeley-Square, 
upon the 10th inst. Richard Waverley, Esq. second 
son of Sir Giles Waverley of Waverley-Honour, Stc. he. 
He died of a lingering disorder, augmented by the un- 
pleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, 
having been obliged to find bail, to a high amount, to meet 
an impending accusation of high-treason. An accusa- 
tion of the same grave crime hangs over his elder brother, 
Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancient 
family ; and we understand the day of his trial will be 
fixed early in the next month, unless Edward Waverley, 
son of the deceased Richard, and heir to the baronet, 
shall surrender himself to justice. In that case, \ve are 
assured it is his Majesty’s gracious purpose to drop further 
proceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard. This 
unfortunate young gentleman is ascertained to have been 
in arms in the Pretender’s service, and to have marched 
along with the Highland troops into England. But he 
has not been heard of since the skirmish at Clifton, on the 
ISth December last.” 

Such was this distracting paragraph. — “ Good God !” 
exclaimed Waverley, “ am i then a parricide ? — Impossi- 
ble ! my father, who never showed the afiection ol a iather 
while he lived, cannot have been so much aiTected by my 
supposed death as to hasten his own ; no, 1 will not believe 
it, — it were distraction to entertain lor a moment such a 
horrible idea. But it were, if possible, worse tlian par- 
ricide to sufier any danger to hang over my noble and gen- 
erous uncle who has ever been more to me than a lather, 
if such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part !” 

While these reflections passed like the stings of scor- 
pions through Waverley’s sensorium, the worthy divine 
was startled in a long disquisition on the battle of Falkirk 
by the ghastliness w-hich they communicated to his looks, 
and asked him if he was ill ? Fortunately the bride, all 
smirk and blush, had just entered the room. Mrs.Williama 
was none of the brightest of women, but she was good- 


>VA V i::i LEY. 


IGO 

?iatured, and readily concluding that Edward had been 
shocked by disagreeable news in the papers, inierl'ered 
so judiciously, that, vvilhoul exciting suspicion, she 
drew off J\lr. Twigtylhe’s attention, and engaged it until 
he soon alter look his leave. Waverley then explained 
to his friends, that he was under the necessity ol going 
to luondon with as little delay as possible. 

One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Wa- 
verley had been very little accustomed. His purse, 
though well slocked when he first went to Tully-Veolan, 
had not been reinforced since that period ; and although 
his life since had not been of a nature to exhaust it hast- 
ily, for he had lived chiefly witii his friends or with the 
army, yet he found, that, after settling with his kind 
landlord, he should be too })Oor to encounter the expense 
of travelling post. The best course, therefore, seemed 
to be, to get into the great north road about Borough 
bridge, and there take a place in the Northern Diligence, 
a huge old-fashioned tub, drawn by three horses, which 
completed the journey from Edinburgh to London (God 
willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three 
weeks. Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate fare- 
well of his Cumberland friends, whose kindness he pro- 
mised never to forget, and tacitly hoped one day to ac- 
knowdedge, by substantial proofs of gratitude. After 
some petty difficulties and vexatious delays, and after 
putting his dress into a shape better befitting his rank, 
tliough perfectly plain and simple, he accomplished 
crossing the country, and found himself in the desired 
vehicle vis-a-vis to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of Lieuten- 
ant Nosebag, adjutant and riding-master of the 

dragoons, a jolly woman of about fifty, wearing a blue 
habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping a silver-mounted 
horscwliip. 

This lady was one of those active members of society 
who take upon them fame le frais de conversation. She 
had just returned from the north, and informed Edward 
how’ nearly her regiment had cut the petticoat people in- 
to ribbands at Falku’k, “ only somehow there was one 


WAVERLEY. 


IGl 


of those nasty awkward marshes that they are never 
without in Scotland, 1 think, and so our poor dear little 
regiment sufFered something, as my Nosebag says, in that 
unsatisfactory affair. You, sir, have served in the dra- 
goons?” VVaverley was taken so much at unawares, that 
he acfjuiesced. 

“ O, I knew it at once ; I saw you were military, from 
your air, and 1 was sure you could be none of the foot- 
wabhlers, as my Nosebag calls them. What regiment, 
pray ?” Here was a delightful question. Waverley, 
liowever, justly concluded that this good lady had the 
whole army-list by heart ; and, to avoid detection, by 
adhering to truth, answered, “ Gardiner’s dragoons, 
ma’am ; but 1 have retired some time.” 

“ O aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, 
as rny Nosebag says. Pray, sir, were you there ?” 

L was so unfortunate, madam,” lie re])lied, ‘‘ as to 
witness that engagement.” 

“ And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner’s 
stood to witness, 1 believe, sir — ha ! ha ! ha ! 1 beg 
your pardon ; but a soldier’s wife loves a joke.” 

“ Devil confound you,” thought Waverley ; “ what 
infernal luck has penned me up with this inquisitive hag !” 

Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one 
subject. “ We are coming to Ferrybridge, now,” she 
said, ‘‘ where there was a party of ours left to support 
the beadles, and constables, and justices, and these sort 
of creatures that are examining papers and stopping 
rebels, and all that.” They were hardly in the inn be- 
fore she dragged VVaverley to the window, exclaiming, 
“ Yonder comes Corporal Bridoon, of our poor dear 
troop ; he’s coming with the constable man ; Bridoon’s 
one of my lambs, as Nosebag calls ’em. Come, Mr. 
A — a — a, — pray what’s your name, sir ?” 

“ Butler, ma’am,” said Waverley, resolved rather to 
make free with the name of a former fellow-officer, than 
run the risk of detection by inventing one not to be 
' found in the regiment. 

VOL. II. 


162 


WATERtEY. 


“ O, yon got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, 
Waverley, went over to the rebels ? Lord, I wish our 
old cross Captain .Crinnp would go over to the rebels, 
that Nosebag might get the troop ! — Lord, what can 
Bridooi) be standing swinging on the bridge for ? I’ll be 
hanged if he an’l hazy, as Nosebag says. — Come, sir, 
as you and J belong to the service, we’ll go put the ras- 
cal in mind of his duty.” 

Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than 
described, saw himself obliged to follow this doughty fe- 
male commander. The gallant trooper was as like a 
lamb as a drunk corporal of dragoons, about six leel 
high, with very broad shoulders, and very thin legs, not to 
mention a great scar across his nose, could well be. 
Mrs. Nosebag addressed him with something which, il 
not an oath, sounded very like one, and commanded him 

to attend to his duty. “ You be d — d for a 

commenced the gallant cavalier ; but, looking up in or- 
der to suit the action to the words, and also to enforce 
the epithet which he meditated, with an adjective appli- 
cable to the parly, he recognized the speaker, made his 
military salam, and altered his tone. — “ Lord love your 
handsome face. Madam Nosebag, is il you ^ why, if a 
})oor fellow does happen to fire a slug of a rnorning, I 
am sure you were never the lady to bring him to harm.” 

“ Well, you rascallion, go mind your duty ; this gen- 
tleman and I belong to the service ; but be .sure you look 
after that shy cock in the slouched hat that sits in the 
corner of the coach. 1 believe he's one of the rebels 
in disguise.” 

“ D — n her gooseberry wig,” said the corporal, when 
she was out of hearing, “ that gimlet-eyed jade, — 
mother adjutant, as we call her, — is a greater plague to 
the regiment than prevot-marshal, serjeant-major, and 
old Hubble-de-ShufF the Colonel, into the bargain. — 
Come, master Constable, let’s see if this shy cock, as 
she cabs him, (who, by the way, was a Quaker, from 
Leeds, with whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tart ar- 
gument on the legality of bearing arms,') will stand god- 


WAVERLEY. 


163 


(litlier to a sup of brandy, for your Yorkshire ale is cold 
on my stomach.” 

Tile vivacity of this good lady, as'it helped Edward 
out of iliis scrape, was like to iiave drawn him into* one 
or two others. In every town wiiere they stopped, sne 
wished to examine the corps de gardC; if there was one, 
and once very narrowly missed introducing Whiverley to 
a rccruiting-serjeant ot his own regiment. Then she 
Captain’d and Butler'd him till he was almost mad with 
vexation and anxiety ; and never was he more rejoiced 
in his life at the termination of a journey, than when the 
arrival of the coach in London freed him from the at- 
tentions of Madam Nosebag. 


CHAPTER XXVL 
What's to be done next 9 

It was twilight when they arrived in town, and having 
shaken olF his companions, and walked through a good 
many streets to avoid the possibility of being traced by 
them, Edward took a hackney-coach and drove to Col- 
onel Talbot’s house, in one of the principal squares at 
the west end of the town. That gentleman, by the 
death of relations, had succeeded since his maTriage to 
a large fortune, possessed considerable political interest, 
and lived in what is called great style. 

When Waverley knocked at his door, he found it at 
first difficult to procure admittance, but at length was 
shown into an apartment where the Colonel was at table. 
Lady Emily, whose very beautiful features Were stdl 
pallid from indisposition, sat opposite to him. ‘The in- 
stant he heard Waverley’s voice, he started upland em- 
braced him. ‘‘ Frank Stanley, my dear boy, how d’ye 
do f — Emily, my love, this is young Stanley.” 


164 


WAVETILEY* 


The blood started to the lady’s cheek as she gave 
Waverley a reception, in which courtesy was mingled 
with kindness, wiiile her trembling hand and faltering 
voice showed how nmcli she was startled and discom- 
posed. Dinner was hastily replaced, and while Waver- 
ley was engaged in refreshing himsell, the Colonel pro- 
ceeded — “ i wonder yo!i have come here, Frank ; the 
doctors tell me the air of London is very bad for your 
complaints. You should not have risked it. But 1 am 
delighted to see you, and so is Emily, though 1 fear we 
must not reckon upon your staying long.” 

“ Some })uriicular business brought me up,” muttered 
W’averley. 

“ 1 supposed so, but T sha’n’t allow you to stay Ions:. — 
Spontoon, (to an elderly military-looking servant out of 
livery) lake away these tilings, and answer the bell your- 
self, if I ling. Don’t let any of the other fellows disturb 
us — .My nephew and 1 have business to talk of.” 

When the servants had retired, “ In the name of God, 
Waverley, what has brought you here It may he as 
much as your life is worth.” 

“ Dear iMr. Waverley,” said Lady Emily, “ to whom 
1 owe so much more than acknowledgments can ever 
pay, liow could yon be so rash 

“ My father- — my uncle — this paragraph,” — he hand- 
ed the paper to Colonel Talbot. 

“ i wish to Heaven these scoundrels were condemned 
to be squeezed to death in their own ])resses,” said 
Talbot.* 1 am told there are not less than a doz- 

en of their papers now published in towi^, and no won- 
der that they are obliged to invent lies to find sale for 
their journals. It is true, however, m)' dear Edward, 
-that you liTtvc lost your lailier ; hut as to this fiourish of 
his unpleasant situation having grated upon his spirits, 
and hurt his liealth — the truth is — for though it is harsh 
to say so now, yet it will relieve your mind from the idea 
of weighty responsibility — the truth then is, that Mr. 
Richard VVaverley, through this whole business showed 
great want of sensibility, both to your situation and tlial 


WAVnKLETj 


165 


of your uncle : and the last time I saw him, he told me, 
with great glee, that as 1 was so good as take charge 
of your interests, he had thought it best to patch up a 
separate negotiation for himself, and make his peace with 
government through some channels which former con- 
nections left still open to him."” 

“ And my uncle, my dear uncle f” 

“ Is in no danger whatever. It is true (looking at 
the date of the paper) there was a foolish report some 
time ago to the purport here quoted, but it is entirely 
false. Sir Everard is gone down to Waverley-Honour, 
freed from all uneasiness, unless upon your own account. 
But you are in peril yourself — your name is in every 

proclamation warrants are out to apprehend you. 

How and when did you come here ?” 

Edward told his story at length, suppressing his quar- 
rel vviih Fergus; for, being himself partial to Highland- 
ers, he did not wish to give any advantage to the Colo- 
nel’s national prejudice against them. 

“ Are you sure it was your friend Glen’s foot-boy you 
saw dead in Clifton-Moor 

“ Quite positive.” 

“ Then that little limb of the devil has cheated the 
gallows, for cut-throat was written in his face, though 
(turning to Lady Emily) it was a very handsome face 
too. — But for you, Edward, I wish you would go down 
again to Cumberland, or rather 1 w'ish you had never 
stirred from thence, for there is an embargo in all the 
sea-ports, and a strict search for the adherents of the 
Pretender ; and the tongue of that confounded woman 
will wag in her head like the clack of a mill, till some 
how or other she will detect Captain Butler to be a 
feigned personage.” 

“ Do you know any thing,” asked Waverley, “ of 
my fellow-traveller.^” 

Her husband was my serjeant-major for six years; 
she was a buxom widow, wdth a little money — he mar- 
ried her — was steady, and got on by being a good drill. 
I must send Spontoon to see what she is about : he will 


166 aVaverley. 

find her out among the old regimental connections. To- 
morrow you must be indisposed, and keep your room 
from latigue. l.ady Kmily is to be your nurse, and 
Spontoon and I your attendanls. You bear the name of 
a near relation of mine, whom none of my present jieople 
ever saw,exce]U Spontoon, so there will be no immedi- 
ate danger. So pray feel your head ache and your 
eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that you may be 
put upon the sick list ; and, Emily, do you order an 
apartment for Frank Stanley, with all the attentions 
which an invalid may require.” 

In the morning the Colonel visited his guest. “ Now,” 
said he, “ 1 have some good news for you. Your repu- 
tation as a gentleman and officer is effectually cleared of 
neglect of duty and accession to the mutiny in Gardiner’s 
regiment. 1 have had a correspondence on this subject 
with a very zealous friend of yours, your Scottish parson, 
Morton ; his first letter was addressed to Sir Everard, 
but I relieved the good IBaronct of the trouble of an- 
swering it. You must know, that your free-booting ac- 
quaintance, Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into 
the hands of the Philistines. He was driving off the 
cattle of a certain proprietor, called Killan — something 
or other — — ” 

“ Killancureit 

“ The same — now the gentleman being, it seems, a 
great farmer, and having a special value for his breed of 
cattle, being, moreover, rather of a timid disjtosiiion, 
had got a party of soldiers to protect his property. So 
Donald run his head unawares into the lion’s mouth, and 
was defeated and made prisoner. Being ordered for 
execution, his conscience was assailed on the one hand 
by a catholic priest, on the other by your friend Morton. 
He repulsed the catholic chielly on account of the doc- 
trine of extreme unction, which this economical gentle- 
man considered as an excessive waste of oil. So his 
conversion from a state of impenitence fell to Mr. Mor- 
ion’s share, who, I dare say, acquitted himself excellent- 
ly, though, I suppose, Donald made but a queer kind of 


WAVE RLE Y. 


X67 


Chrislitin after all. He confessed, liowever, before a 
magistrate, one Major Melville, who seems to have been 
a correct, friendly sort of j)erson, his full intrigue with 
Houghton, explaining particularly how it was carried on, 
and fully acquitting you of the least accession to it. He 
also mentioned his rescuing you from the hands of the 
volunteer officer, and sending you, by orders of the 
Pret — Chevalier 1 mean — as a prisoner to Doune, from 
whence he understood you were carried prisoner to Ed- 
inburgh. These are particulars which cannot but tell in 
your favour. He hinted that he had been employed to 
deliver and prolect you, and rewarded for <loing so ; but 
he would not confess by whom, alleging, that though he 
would not have minded breaking any ordinary oath to 
satisfy the curiosity of Mr. IMorton, to whose pious ad- 
monitions he owed so much, yet, in the present case, be 
had been sworn to silence upon the edge of his dirk, 
which, it seems, cor^stituted, in his opinion, an inviolable 
obligation.” 

“ And w'hat is become of him ?” 

“ O, he was hanged at Stirling after the rebels raised’ 
the siege, with his lieutenant, and four plaids beside ; 
he having the advantage of a gallows more lofty than his 
friends.” 

“ Well, 1 have little cause either to regret or rejoice at 
his death, and yet he has done me both good and harm 
to a very considerable extent.” 

“ His confession, at least, w-ill serve you materially, 
since it wdpes from your character all ti.ose sus|)icions 
which save the accusation against you a complexion of 
a nature dilTereiit from that wdth which so many unfor- 
tunate gentlemen, now, or lately, in arms against the 
government, may be justly charged. Their treason — 
1 must give it its name, though you participate in its guilt 
— is an action arising from mistaken virtue, and therefore 
cannot be classed as a disgrace, though it be doubtless 
highlv criminal. Wliere the guilty are so numerous, 
clemency must be extended to far the greater number ; 
and I have little doubt of procuring a remission for you, 


I C8 vvaverlet. 

providing we cnn keep you out of the claws of justice 
till she has selected and gorged upon her victims ; for in 
this, as in oiher cases, it will be according to the vulgar 
proverb, First come, first served. Besides, government 
are desirous at present to intimidate the English Jacobites, 
among whom they can find few examples for j)unishment. 
This is a vindictive and timid feeling which will soon 
wear off, for, of all nations, the English are least blood- 
thirsty by nature. But it exists at present, and you 
must, therefore, be kept out of the way in the mean time.” 

Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance. 
By his regimental acquaintances he had traced out Mad- 
am Nosebag, and found her full of ire, fuss, and fidget, 
at discovery of an impostor, who had travelled from the 
north with her under the assumed name of Captain But- 
ler ofGardiner’s dragoons. She was going to lodge an 
iiifdrmation on the subject, to have him sought for as an 
emissary ol the Pretender ; hut Spontoon, (an old sol- 
dier,) while he pretended to approve, contrived to make 
!ier delay her intention. No time, however, was to be 
lost : the accuracy of this good dame’s description might 
probably lead to the discovery that Waverley was the 
pretended Captain Butler ; an identification fraught with 
danger to Edward, perhaps to his uncle, and even to Col- 
onel Talbot. Which way to direct his course was now, 
therefore, the question. 

“ To Scotland,” said Waverley. 

To Scotland said the Colonel ; “ with what pur- 
pose f — not to engage again with the rebels, I hope.^” 

“ No — 1 considered my camjiaign ended, when, alter 
all my efforts, I could not rejoin them, and now by all 
accounts they are gone to make a winter campaign in the 
Highlands, where such adherents as 1 am would rather 
oe burdensome than useful. Indeed, it seems likely that 
they only prolong the war to place the Chevalier’s per- 
son out of danger, and then to make some terms for 
Inernselves. To burden them with my presence would 
merely add another party, whom they would not give up. 


WAVERLEY. 


169 


and could not defend. I understand they left almost all 
their English adherents in garrison at Carlisle, for that 
very reason : — and on a more general view, Colonel, to 
confess the truth, though it may lower me in your opin- 
ion, I am heartily tired of the trade of war, and am, as 
Fletcher’s Humourous Lieutenant says, ‘ even as weary 
of this fighting’ ” 

“ Fighting ! pooh, what have you seen but a skirmish 
or two ? — Ah ! if you saw war on the grand scale — sixty 
or a hundred thousand men in the field on each side 1” 

“ 1 am not at all curious. Colonel — Enough, says our 
homely proverb, is as good as a feast. The plumed 
troops and the big war used to enchant me in poetry, 
hut the night marches, vigils, couches under the wintry 
sky, and such accompaniments of the glorious trade, 
are not at all to my taste in practice : — then for dry 
blows, I had mi/ fill of fighting at Clifton, where 1 escaped 
by a hair’s-breadtli half a dozen times ; and you, I should 
think” He stopped. 

“ Had enough of it at Preston ? you mean to say,” an- 
swered the Colonel, laughing ; but it is my vocation, Hal.’ 

“ It is not mine though,” said VVaverley ; “ and, hav- 
ing honourably got rid of the sword which I drew only 
as a volunteer, I am quite satisfied with my military ex- 
perience, and shall be in no hurry to take it up again.” 

“ I am very glad you are of that mind, — but then what 
would you do in the north .^” 

“ In the first place, there are some sea-ports on the 
eastern coast of Scotland still in the hands of the Chev- 
alier’s friends ; should I gain any of them, 1 can easily 
embark for the continent.” 

“ Good^ — ^your second reason 

“ Why, to speak the very truth, there is a person in 
Scotland upon whom 1 now find my happiness depends 
more than 1 was always aware, and about whose situation 
1 am very>. anxious.” 

Then Emily was right, and there is a love affair in 
the case after all — And which of these two pretty 

VOL. II. 


WATBRXEY. 


ITO 

Scotchwortien, whom you insisted upon my admiring, is 
the distinguished fair ? not Miss Glen- 1 hope.” 

“ No.” 

“ Ah, pass for the other ; simplicity may be improved, 
but pride and conceit never. Well, 1 don’t discourage 
you ; J think it will please Sir Everard, from what he 
said v;hen I jested with him about it ; only 1 hope that 
intolerable papa, with his brogue and his snuff, and his 
Latin, and his insuQerable long stories about the Duke 
of Berwick, will find it necessary hereafter to be an in- 
habitant of foreign parts. But as to the daughter, though 
1 think you might find as fitting a match in England, yet, 
if your heart be really set upon tin’s Scotch rose-bud, 
wily the Baronet has a great opinion of her father and 
of his family, and he wishes much to see you married 
and settled, both for your own sake and for that of the 
tliree ermines passant, which may otherwise pass away 
altogether. But J will bring you his mind fully upon the 
subject, since you are debarred correspondence for the 
present, for 1 think you will not be long in Scotlarfd 
before me.” 

“ Indeed ! and what can induce you to think of re- 
turning to Scotland f No relenting longings towards the 
land of mountains and floods, I am afraid.” 

“ None, on my word ; but Emily’s health is now, 
thank God, re-established, and, to tell you the truth, 1 
have little hopes of concluding the business which I have 
at present most at Iieart, until 1 can have a personal in- 
terview with his Royal Highness the Commander in 
Chief ; for, as Fluellen says, ‘ the duke doth love me 
well, and i thank heaven 1 have deserved some love at 
his hands.’ I am now going out for an hour or two to 
arrange matters for your departure ; your liberty extends 
to the next room. Lady Emily’s parlour, where you will 
find her when you are disposed for music, reading, or 
conversation. We have taken measures to exclude all 
servants, but Spontoon, who is as true as steel.” 


SvaVerlet. 171 

In about two hours Colonel Talbot returned, and found 
his young friend conversing with his lady ; she, pleased 
with his manners and information, and he deliglited at 
being restored, tliougii but for a moment, to the society 
of his own rank, from which he had been for some time 
excluded. 

“ And now,” said the Colonel, “ hear my arrange- 
ments, for there is little time to lose. This youngsttr, Ed- 
ward VVaverley, alias Williams, alias Captain Butler, must 
continue to pass by liis fourth alius of F rancis Stanley, mj’’ 
nephew ; he shall set out to-morrow for the North, and 
the chariot shall take him the first two stages. Spontoon 
shall then attend him ; and they shall ride post as far as 
Huntingdon ; and the presence of Spontoon, well known 
on the road as my seivant, will check all disposition to 
inquiry. At Huntingdon you will meet the real Frank 
Stanley. He is studying at Cambridge ; but, a little 
while ago, doubtful if Emily’s health would permit me 
to go down lb the North myself, I procured him a pass- 
port from the secretary of state’s office to go in my stead. 
As he went chieffy to look after you, his journey is now 
unnecessary. He knou*s your story ; you will dine to- 
gether at Huntingdon ; and perhaps your wise heads 
may hit upon some plan for removing or diminishing the 
danger of your farther progress northward. And now, 
(taking out a morocco case,) let me put you in funds for 
the campaign.” 

“ I am ashamed, my dear Colonel,” 

“ Nay,” said Colonel 'ralbot, “ you should command 
my purse in any event ; but this money is your own. Your 
father, considering 'the chance of your being attainted, leu 
me his trustee for your advanta'ge. So that you are worth 
above £ 1 5,000, besides Brerewood l^odge — a very inde- 
pendent person, 1 promise you. There are bills here for 
£200 ; any larger sum you may have, or credit abroad, 
as soon ns your motions require it.” 

The tirst use which occurred to Waverley of his new- 
ly-acquired wealth, was to write to honest Farmer Jop- 
son, requesting his acceptance of a silver tankard on the 


WAVERLET. 


)72 

part o( his friend Williams, who had not forgotten die 
night of the eighteenth December last. He begged him 
at the same time carefully to preserve for him his High- 
land garb and accoutrements, particularly the arms, curi- 
ous in themselves, and to which the friendship of the 
donors gave additional value. Lady Emily undertook 
to find some suitable token of remembrance, likely to 
flatter the vanity and please the taste of Mrs. Williams ; 
and the Colonel, who was a kind of farmer, promised to 
send the Ulswaier patriarch an excellent team of horses 
for cart and plough. 

One happy day Waverley spent in London ; and, trav- 
elling in the manner projected, he met with Frank Stan- 
ley at Huntingdon. The two young men were acquaint- 
ed in a minute. 

“ I can read my uncle’s riddle,” said Stanley ; “ the 
cautious old soldier did not care to hint to me that I 
might hand over to you this passport, which 1 have no 
occasion for ; but if it should afterwards come out as 
the rattle-pated trick of a young canlab, ce/n ne tire a 
ricn. You are therefore to be Francis Stanley, with this 
passport.” This proposal appeared in efieci to alleviate 
a great part of the difficulties which Edward must other- 
wise have encountered at every turn ; and accordingly 
he scrupled not to avail himself of it, the more especially 
as he had discarded all political purposes from his pres- 
ent journey, and could not be accused of furthering 
machinations against the government while trav^elling 
under protection of the secretary’s passport. 

The day passed merrily away. The young student 
was inquisitive about Waverley ’s campaigns, and the 
manners of the Highlands, and Edward was obliged to 
satisfy his curiosity by whistling a pibroch, dancing a 
strathspey, and ' singing a Highland song. The next 
morning Stanley rode a stage northward with his new 
friend, and parted from him with great reluctance, upon 
the remonstrances of Spontoon, who, accustomed to 
submit to discipline, was rigid in enforcing it. 


173 


WAVE RLE Y. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

Desolation. 

•Waveri.f.y riding post, as was the usual fashion of the 
period, without any adventure, save one or two queries, 
which tlie talisman of his j)assport sudiciently answered, 
reached the border of Scotland. Here he heard the 
tidings of the decisive battle of Culloden. It was no 
more tlian he had long expected, though the success at 
Falkirk had thrown a faint and setting gleam over the 
aians of tiie Chevalier. • Yet it came upon him like a shock, 
by which he was for a time altogether unmanned. The 
generous, the courteous, the noble-minded Adventurer 
was then a fugitive, with a price upon his head ; his ad- 
herents, so brave, so enthusiastic, so faithful, were dead, 
imprisoned, or exiled. VV^jiere, now, was the exalted, 
and high-souled Fergus, if, indeed, he had survived the 
night at Clifton ? Where the pure-hearted and primitive 
Baron of Bradwardine, whose foibles seemed foils to set 
off the disinterestedness of his disposition, the genuine 
goodness of his heart, and his unshaken courage? Those 
who clung for support to these fallen columns^ Rose and 
Flora, where were they to be sought, and in what distress 
must not the loss of their natural protectors have involved 
tliem f Of Flora, he thought with the regard of a brother 
for a sister ; of Rose, with a sensation yet more deep 
ai d tender. Jt might be still his fate to supply the want 
of those guardians they had lost. Agitated by these 
thoughts he precipitated his journey. 

When he arrived in Edinbtirgh, where his inquiries 
must necessarily commence, he felt the full diflicuhy of 
his situation. Many inhabitants of that city had seeti 
at)d known him as Edward Waverley; how, then, could 
he avail himself of a passport as Francis Stanley ? He 

VOL. II. 


174 


■WAVERLEY. 


resolved, therefore, to avoid all company, and to move 
northward as soon as possible. He was, however, oblig- 
ed to wait a day or two in expectation of a leltei' Iroin 
Colonel Talbot, and lie was also to leave iiis own address, 
under his feigned character, at a place agreed upon. 
With this latter purpose he sallied out in the dusk through 
the well-known streets, carefully shunning observation ; 
but in vain : one of the first persons whom he met, at 
once recognized him. It was Mrs. Flockhart, Fergus 
Mac-Ivor’s good-humoured landlady. 

“ Gude guide us, Mr. Wav^erley, is this you na, ye 
needna be feared for me. I wad betray nae gentleman 
in your circumstances — eh, lack-a-day ! lack-a-day I 
here’s a change o’ markets ; how merry Colonel Mac- 
Ivor and you used to be in our house !” And the good- 
natured widow shed a few natural tears. As there 
was no resisting her claim of acquaintance, Waverley ac- 
knowdedged it wdth a good grace, as well as the danger 
of his own situation. “ As it’s near the darkening, sir, 
wad ye just step in by to our house, and tak a dish of 
tea ? and 1 am sure if ye like to sleep in the little room, 
I wad tak care ye are no disturbed, and naebody wad 
ken ye ; for Kale and Matty, the limmers, gaed off wi’ 
tw''a o’ Hawley’s dragoons, and 1 hae twa new queans in- 
stead o’ them.” 

Waverley accepted her invitation, and engaged her 
lodging for a night or two, satisfied he should be safer in 
the house of this simple creature than any where else. 
When he entered the parlour, his heart swelled to see 
Fergus’s bonnet, with the while cockade, hanging beside 
the little mirror. 

“ Ay,” said Mrs. Flockhart, sighing, as she observed 
the direction of his eyes, “ the puir Colonel bought a 
new ane just the day before they marchcd,and I wdnna let 
them tak that ane doon, but just to brush it ilka day my- 
sel, and whiles I look at it till 1 just think I hear him cry 
to Callum to bring him his bonnet, as he used to do when 
he was ganging out. — It’s unco silly — the neighbours ca’ 
me a .lacobite — but the 3 ’^ may say their say — I am sure 


WAVEllLEY. 


175 


it’s no for that — but he was as kind-hearted a gentleman 
as ever lived, and as weel-fa’rd too. Oh, d’ye ken, sir, 
whan he is to suffer 

“ Slider ! good heaven ! — why, where is he?” 

“ Eh, Lord’s sake ! d’ye no ken ? The poor Hieland 
body, Dugald Mahony, cam liere a while syne wi’ ane o’ 
his arms cuttit off, and a sair clour in tire head — ye’ll 
mind Dugald, he carried aye an axe on his shouther — 
and he cam here just begging, as I may say, for some- 
thing to eat. Aweel, he tauld us the Chief, as they ca’d 
him, (but 1 aye ca’ him the Colonel,) and Ensign ^lac- 
combich, that ye mind weel, were ta’en somewiiere be- 
side the English border, when it was sae dark that his 
folk never missed him till it was-ower late, and they were 
like to gang clean daft. And he said that little Callum 
Beg, (he was a bauld mischievous callant that,) and your 
honour, were killed that same night in the .tuilzie, and 
mony mae braw men. But he grat when he spak o’ the 
Colonel, ye never saw the like. And now the word 
gangs, the Colonel is to be tried, and to softer wi’ them 
that were ta’en at Carlisle.” 

“ And his sister ?” 

‘‘ Ay, that they ca’d the Lady Flora — weel, she’s 
away up to Carlisle to him, and lives wi’ some grand 
papist lady thereabouts to be near him.” 

“ And,” said Edward, “ the other young lady ?” 

“ VVTiik other ? I ken only of ae sister the Colonel 
had.” 

“ 1 mean Miss Bradwardine,” said Edward. 

“ Oil, ay ; the laird’s daughtej,” said his landlady. 

She was a very bomiie lassie, poor thing, but far shy- 
er than Lady Flora.” 

“ Where is she, for God’s sake ?” 

“ Ou, wha kens where ony o’ them is now ? puir 
tilings, they’re sair ta’en down for their white cockades 
and their white roses : but she gaed north to her father’s 
in Perthshire, when the government troops cam back tc 
Edinbro’. There was some pretty men amang them, 
and ane Major Whacker was quartered on me, a ver^ 


176 


WAVEUtEY. 


ceevil gentleman, but O, Mr. Waverley, he was naething 
sae weel fa’rd as the piiir Colonel.” 

“ Do you know what is become of Miss Bradwar- 
dine’s fallier 

“ The auld laird na, naebody kens that ; but tlie) 
say he fought very hard in that bluidy battle at Inverness , 
and Deacon Clank, the white-iron smith, says that the 
government folk are sair agane him for having been oul 
twice ; and troth he might hae ta’en warning, but there’s 
nae fule like an auld fule — the puir Colonel was only 
out ance.” 

Such conversation contained almost all the good-na- 
tured widow' knew of the fate of her late lodgers and 
acquaintances, but it was enough to determine Edward, 
at all hazards, to proceed instantly to Tuily-Veolan, w here 
he concluded he should see, or at least hear something 
of Rose. He therefore left a letter for Colonel Talbot 
at the place agreed upon, signed by his assumed name, 
and giving for his address the post-town next to the 
Baron’s residence. 

From Edinburgh to Perth he took post-horses, resolv- 
ing to make the rest of his journey on foot ; a mode of 
travelling to which he w'as partial, and which had tlie ad- 
vantage of permitting a deviation from the road when 
he saw parties of military at a distance. His campaign 
had considerably strengthened his constitution, and im- 
proved his habits of enduring fatigue. His baggage he 
sent before him as opportunity occurred. 

As he advanced northward, the traces of w'ar became 
visible. Broken carriages, dead horses, unroofed cot- 
tages, trees felled for palisades, and bridges destroyed, 
or only partially repaired, — all indicated the movements 
of hostile armies. In those places wdiere the gentry 
w^ere attached to the Stuart cause, their houses seemed 
dismantled or deserted, the usual course of w hat may be 
called ornamental labour was totally interrupted and the 
inhabitants were seen gliding about with fear, sorrow 
and dejection on their faces. 


WAVliULEY. 


177 


It was evening when ho approached the /illage of 
Tuily-Veolan, with feelings and sentiments— how differ- 
ent from those which attended ills first entrance ! Then 
life was so new to him, that a dull or disagreeable day 
was one of the greatest misfortunes which his imagina- 
tion anticipated, and it seemed to liim tliat Ins lime ought 
only to be consecrated to elegant or amusing study, and 
relieved by social or youthful frolic. Now, how ciiang- 
ed, how saddened, yet how elevated was his character, 
within the course of a very few montiis ! Danger and 
misfortune are rapid, though severe teachers. A sad- 
der and a wiser man,” he felt, in internal confidence and 
menial dignity, a compensation for the gay dreams which, 
in his case, experience had so rapidly dissolved. 

As he approached the village, he saw, with surprise 
and anxiety, that a party of soldiers were quartered near 
it, and, what was worse, that they seemed stationary there. 
This h.e conjectured from a few tents which he beheld 
glimmeririg upon what was called the Common Moor. To 
avoid the risk of being stopped and questioned in a place 
where lie was so likely to be recognized, he made a 
large circuit, altogether avoiding the hamlet, and ap- 
proaching the upper gate of the avenue by a bye-path 
well known to him. A single glance announced that 
great changes had taken place. One half of the gate, 
entirely destroyed, and split up for fire-wood, lay in 
piles ready to be taken away ; the other swung uselessly 
about upon its loosened hinges. The battlements above 
the gate were broken and thrown down, and the carved 
Dears, which were said to have done sentinels duty upon 
the top for centuries, now, hurled from their posts, lay 
among the rubbish. The avenue was cruelly wasted. 
Several large trees were felled and left lying across the 
path ; and the cattle of the villagers, and the more rude 
lioofs of dragoon horses, had poached into black mud 
the verdant turf which VVaverley had so much admired. 

Upon entering the court-yard, Edward saw the fears 
realized which these circumstances had excited. The 
place had been sacked by the King’s troops, who, in wan- 


178 


WAVE RLE Y. 


ton mischief, had even attempted to burn t ; and though 
the thickness of the walls had resisted the fire, unless to 
a partial extent, the stables and out-houses were totally 
consumed. The tow'ers and pinnacles of the main build- 
ing were scorched and blackened ; the pavement ol the 
court broken and shattered ; the doors torn down entire- 
ly, or hanging by a single hinge ; the windows dashed in 
and demolished, and the court strewed with articles of 
furniture broken into fragments. The accessaries of 
ancient distinction, to which the Baron in the pride of 
his lieart, had attached so much importance and venera- 
tion, were treated with peculiar contumely. The foun- 
tain was demolished, and the spring, which had supplied 
it, now Hooded the court-yard. The stone-basin seemed 
to be destined for a drinking-trough for cattle, from the 
manner in which it was arranged upon the ground. The 
whole tribe of Bears, large and small, had experienced 
as little favour as those at the head of the avenue, and 
one or two of the family pictures, which seemed to have 
served as targets for the soldiers, lay on the ground in 
tatters. With an aching heart, as may well be imagined, 
Edward viewed this wreck of a mansion so respected. 
But his anxiety to learn the fate of the proprietors, and 
his fears as to what that fate might be, increased with 
every step. When he entered upon the terrace, new 
scenes of desolation were visible. The ballustrade was 
broken down, the walls destroyed, the borders overgrown 
with weeds, and the fruit-trees cut down or grubbed up. 
In one compartment of this old-fashioned garden were two 
immense horse-chesnut trees, of whose size the Baron 
was particularly vain : too lazy, perhaps, to cut them 
down, the spoilers, with malevolent ingenuity, had mined 
them, and placed a quantity of gunpowder in the cavity. 
One had been shivered to pieces by the explosion, and 
the fragments lay scattered around, encumbering the 
ground it had so long shadowed. The other mine had beer 
more partial in its elFect. About one-fourth of the trunk 
of the tree was torn from the mass, which, mutilated and 


V/AVEIILET. 


17CJ 


defaced on the one side, still spread on the other its am- 
ple and nndiminished boughs.^^ 

Amid these general marks of ravage, there were some 
which more particularly addressed the feelings of Wa- 
verley. Viewing the front of the building, thus wasted 
and defaced, his eyes naturally sought the little balcony 
which more properly belonged to Rose’s apartment — her 
t7'oisieme, or rather cinquieme eiage. ^ It was easily dis- 
covered, for beneath it lay the stage-fiowers and shrubs, 
with which it was her pride to decorate it, and wliich liad 
been liurled fro>n the bartizan : several of her books 
were mingled witR broken dower-pots and other remnants. 
Among these VVaverley distinguished one of his own, a 
small copy of Ariosto, and gathered it as a treasure, 
though wasted by the wind and rain. 

While plunged in the sad rcdections which the scene 
excited, he was looking around for some one who might 
explain the fiite of the inhabitants, lie lioard a voice from 
the interior of the building, singing in well-ieinembercd 
accents, an old Scottish song : 

** They came upon us ia the night, 

Atul brake my bower and slew iny knight ; 

]My servants a’ for life did lice, 

Aiul left us in extremitic. 

I’hey slew my knight, to me sae dear ; 

They slew my knight, and drave his gear ; 28 
I’lie moon may set, the sun may rise, 

But a deadly sleep has closed his eyes.'' 

“ Alas,” thought Edward, “ is it thou ? Poor helpless 
being, art thou ’alone left, to gibber and moan, and fill 
with thy wild and unconnected scraps of minstrelsy the 
halls that protected thee r” — He then called, first low, 
and then louder, “ Davie — Davie Gellatley !” 

The poor simpleton showed himself from among the 
ruins of a sort of green -house, that once terminated what 
was called the Terrace-walk, but at first sight of a stran- 
ger retreated, as if in terror. Waverley, remembering 
his habits, began to whistle a tune to which he was par* 


ISO 


WAVEULKY. 


tiill, which Davie liad expressed great pleasure in listen- 
ing to, and liad picked up IVoin him by the ear. Ouj 
hero’s minstrelsy no more erpialled that of Blondel, than 
poor Davie resembled Cmur de Lion ; hut the melody 
had the same effect of producing recognition. Davie 
again stole from his lurking place, but timidly, while Wa- 
verley, afraid of frightening him, stood making the most 
encouraging signals he could devise. — “ It’s his ghaist,” 
muttererl Davie ; yet, coming nearer, he seemed to ac- 
knowledge his living acquaintance. The poor fool him- 
self appeared *the ghost of what he had been. The pecu- 
liar dress in which he had been attired in better days, 
showed only miserable rags of its whimsical finery, the 
lack of which was oddly supplied b}^ the remnants of 
lajiestried hangings, window-curtains, and shreds of pic- 
tures, with which he had bedizened his tatters. His Lee, 
too, had lost its vacant and careless air, and the poor crea- 
ture looked hollow-eyed, meagre, half-starved, and nerv- 
ous, to a pitiable degree. After long hesitation, he at 
length approached Waverley with some confidence, star- 
ed him sadly in the face, and said, A’ dead and gane — 
a’ dead and gane.” 

“ Who are dead said Waverley, forgetting the in- 
capacity of Davie to hold any connected discourse. 

“ j^aron — and Baillie — and Saunders Saunderson — 
and Lady Rose, that sang sae sweet — A’ dead and gane 
—dead and gane ; 


But follow, follow me, 

While glowworms light the lea, 

I'll show ye where ihe dead should be — 

Each in his shroud, 

While winds pij>e loud, 

A)i(l the red moon peeps dim llirough the cloud. 

Follow, follow me ; 

Brave should he be 

Thai treads by night the dead man’s lea.” 

With these words chanted in a wild and earnest tone, 
he. made a sign to Waverley to follow him, and walked 


WAVERLEY. 


181 


rapidly toward the bottom of the garden, tracing the bank 
of the stream, which, it may be remembered, was its 
eastern boundary. Edward, over whom an involuntary 
shuddering stole at the import of his words, followed him 
m some hope of an explanation. As the house was evi- 
dently deserted, he could not expect to find among the 
ruins any more rational informer. 

Davie., walking very fast, soon reached the extremity 
of the garden, and scrambled over the ruins of the wall 
that once had divided it from the wooded glen in which 
the old Tower of Tully-Veolan was situated. He then 
jumped down into the bed of the stream, and, followed 
by Waverley, proceeded at a great pace, climbing over 
some fragments of rock, and turning with difficulty round 
others. They passed beneath the ruins of the castle ; 
Waverley followed, keeping up with his guide with diffi- 
culty, for the twilight began to fall. Following the de- 
scent of the stream a little lower, he totally lost him, but 
a twinkling light, which he now discovered among the 
tangled copse-wood and bushes, seemed a surer guide. 
He soon pursued a very uncouth path ; and by its guid- 
ance at length reached the door of a wretched hut. A 
fierce barking of dogs was at first heard, but it stilled at 
his approach. A voice sounded from within, and he 
held it most prudent to listen before he advanced. 

“ Wha hast thou brought here, thou unsonsy villain, 
thou said an old woman, apparently in great indigna- 
tion. He heard Davie Gellatley, in answer, whistle a 
part of the tune by which he had recalled himself to the 
simpleton’s memory, and had now no hesitation to knock 
at the door. There was a dead silence instantly within, 
except the deep growling of the dogs ; and he next heard 
the mistress of the hut approach the door, not probably 
for the sake of undoing a latch, but of fastening a bolt. 
To prevent this, Waverley lifted the latch himself. 

In front was an old wretched-looking woman, exclaim- 
ing “ Wha comes into folks’ houses in this gate, at this 

22 VOL, II. 


182 


WAVERLEY. 


time o’ the night ?” On one side, two grim and half- 
starved deer grey-hounds laid aside their ferocity at his 
appearance, and seemed to recognize him. On the oth- 
er side, half concealed by the open door, yet apparently 
seeking that concealment reluctantly, with a cocked pistol 
in his right hand, and his left in the act of drawing anoth- 
er from his belt, stood a tall bony gaunt figure in the 
remnants of a.faded uniform, and aboard of three weeks’ 
growth. 

It was the Baron of Bradwardine. — It is unnecessary 
to add, that he threw aside his weapon, and greeted Wa- 
verley with a hearty embrace. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Comparing of JYoies. 

The Baron’s story was short, when divested of the 
adages and common-places, Latin, English, and Scotch, 
with which his erudition garnished it. He insisted much 
upon his grief at the loss of Edward and of Glennaquoich, 
fought the fields of Falkirk and Culloden, and related 
how, after all was lost in the last battle, he had returned 
home under the idea of more easily finding shelter among 
his own tenants, and on his own estate, than elsewhere. 
A party of soldiers had been sent to lay w^aste his pro^ 
perty, for clemency was not the order of the day. Their 
proceedings, however, were checked by an order from 
the civil court. The estate, it was found, might not be 
forfeited to the crown, to the prejudice of Malcolm Brad- 
wardine of Inch-Grabbit, the heir-male, whose claim 
could not be prejudiced by die Baron’s attainder, as de- 
riving no right through him, and who, therefore, like other 
heirs of entail in the same situation, entered upon pos- 
session. But, unlike many in similar circumstances, the 
new laird speedily showed that he intended utterly to ex- 
clude his predecessor from all benefit or advantage in the 


>V A V I ' ll 1. K Y . 


183 


estate, and that it was bis purpose to avail himself of the 
old Baron’s evil fortune to the full extent. This was the 
more ungenerous, as it was generally known, that, from 
a romantic idea of not prejudicing this young man’s right 
as heir-male, the Baron had refrained from settling his 
estate on his daughter. 

This selfish injustice was resented by the country 
people, who were partial to their old master,, and irritated 
against his successor. In thp Baron’s own words, “ The 
matter did not coincide with the feelings of the commons 
of Bradwardine, Mr. Waverley ; and the tenants were 
slack and repugnant in payment of their mails and duties; 
and when my kinsman came to the village wi’ the new 
factor, Mr. James Howie, to lift the rents, some wan- 
chancy person — I suspect John Heatherblutter, the auld 
game keeper, that was out wi’ me in the year fifteen — 
fired a shot at him in the gloaming, whereby he was so 
affrighted, that I may say with Tullius in Catilinam, Ahiit, 
evasit, erupit, effugit. He fled, sir, as one may say, in- 
continent to Stirling. And now he hath advertised the 
estate for sale, being himself the last substitute in the en- 
tail. — And if I were to lament about sic matters, this 
would grieve me mair than its passing from my immediate 
possession, whilk, by the course of nature, must have hap- 
pened in a few years. Whereas now it passes from the 
lineage that should have possessed it in scecula sceculorum. 
But God’s will be done, humana perpessi sumus. Sir 
John of Bradwardine — Black Sir John, as he is called — 
who was the common ancestor of our house and the Inch- 
Grabbits, little thought such a person would have sprung 
from his loins. Meantime, he has accused me to some 
of the primates, the rulers for the time, as if I were a cut- 
throat, and an abettor of bravoes and assassinates, and 
coLipe-jarrets. And they have sent soldiers here to 
abide on the estate, and hunt me like a partridge upon the 
mountains, as scripture says of good King David, or like 
our valiant Sir William Wallace, — not that I bring niy- 
self into comparison with either. — I thought, when 1 
heard you at the door, they had driven the auld deer to 
his den at last ; and so I e’en proposed to die at bay, like 


184 


WAVERLEY. 


a buck of the first head. — But now, Janet, c-anna ye gi i 
us something for supper 

“ Ou, ay, sir. I’ll brander the moor-fowl that John 
Heatherblutter brought in this morning ; and ye see puir 
Davie’s roasting the black hen’s eggs. — I daur say, Mr. 
Wauverley, ye never kend that a’ the eggs that were sae 
weel roasted at supper in the Ha’-house were aye turned 
by our Davie f — there’s no the like o’ him ony gate for 
powtering wi’ his fingers amang the het peat-ashes, and 
roasting eggs.” Davie all this while lay with his nose 
almost in the fire, nuzzling among the ashes, kicking his 
heels, mumbling to himself, turning the eggs as they 
lay in the hot embers, as if to confute the proverb, that 
“ there goes reason to roasting of eggs,” and justify the 
eulogium which poor Janet poured out upon 

“ Him whom she loved, her idiot boy." 

“ Davie’s no sae silly as folk tak him for, Mr. Wau- 
verley ; he wadna hae brought you here unless he had 
kend ye was a friend to his Honour — indeed the very 
dogs kend ye, Mr. Wauverley, for ye was aye kind to 
beast and body. — I can tell you a story o’ Davie, wi’ his 
Honour’s leave : His Honour, ye see, being under hid- 
ing in thae sair times — the mair’s the pity — he lies a’ day, 
and whiles a’ night, in the cove in the dern hag ; but 
though it’s a bieldy enough bit, and the auld gudeman o’ 
Corse-Cleugh has panged it wi’ a kemple o’ strae amaist, 
yet when the country’s quiet, and the night very cauld, 
his Honour whiles creeps doun here to get a warm at 
the ingle, and a sleep amang the blankets, and gangs 
awa’ in the morning. And so, ae morning, siccan a fright 
as I got ! Twa unlucky red-coats were up for black-fish- 
ing, or some siccan ploy — for th6> neb o’ them’s never 
out o’ mischief — and they just got a glisk o’ his Honour 
as he gaed into the wood, and banged afF a gun at him. 
I out like a jer-falcon, and cried, — ‘ Wad they shoot an 
honest woman’s poor innocent bairn and I fleyt at 
them, and ihreepit it was my son ; and they damned and 


WAVEIIT.EY. 


18 ;i 

svvuir at me that it was the auld rebel, as the villains ca’d 
his Honour ; and Davie was in the wood and heard the 
tuilzie, and he, just out of his ain head, got up the auld 
grey mantle that his Honour had flung oft him to gang 
die faster, and he cam out o’ the very same bit o’ the 
wood, majoring and looking about sae like his Honour, 
that they were clean beguiled, and thought they had let- 
ten afl* their gun at crack-brained Sawney, as they ca’ 
him ; and they gae me sixpence, and twa saumon fish, 
to say naething about it. — Na, na, Davie’s no just like 
other folk, puir fallow ; buthe’sno sae silly as folk tak 
him for. — But, to be sure, how can we do eneugh for his 
Honour, when wo and ours have lived on his ground this 
twa hundred years ; and when he keepit my puir Jamie 
at school and college, and even at the Ha’-house, till he 
gaed to a better place ; and when he saved me frae be- 
ing ta’en to Perth as a witch — Lord, forgi’e them that 
would touch sic a puir silly auld body ! — and has main- 
tained puir Davie at heck and manger maist feck o’ his 
life r 

Waverley at length found an opportunity to interrupt 
Janet’s narrative, by an inquiry after Miss Bradwardine. 

“ She’s weel and safe, thank God ! at the Duchran,” 
answered the Baron ; “ the laird’s distantly related to 
us, and more nearly to my chaplain, Mr. Rubrick ; and, 
though he be of Whig principles, yet he’s not forgetful 
of auld friendship at this time. The Baillie’s doing 
what he can to save something out of the wreck for puir 
Rose ; but I doubt, I doubt, I shall never see her again, 
for I maun lay my banes in some far country.” 

‘‘ Hout na, your Honour said old Janet, “ ye were 
just as ill aff in the feifteen, and got the bonnie baronie 
back, an’ a’.— And now the eggs is ready, and the muir- 
cock’s brandered, and there’s ilk ane a trencher and some 
saut, and the heel o’ the white loaf that cam frae the 
Baillie’s ; and there’s plenty o’ brandy in the greybeard 
that Luckie Maclearie sent doun, and winna ye be sup- 
pered like princes 
VOL. II. 


186 


WAVERLET. 


‘ I wish one Prince, at least, of our acquaintance may 
be no worse off,” said the Baron to Waverley, who join- 
ed him in cordial hopes for the safety of the unfortunate 
Chevalier. 

They then began to talk of their future prospects 
The Baron’s plan was very simple. It was, to escape tc 
France, where, by the interest of his old friends, he 
hoped to get some military employment, of which he still 
conceived himself capable. He invited Waverley to go 
with him, a proposal in which he acquiesced, providing 
the interest of Colonel Talbot should fail in procuring 
his pardon. Tacitly he hoped the Baron would sanction 
his addresses to Rose, and give him a right to assist him 
in his exile, but he forbore to speak on this subject until 
his own fate should be decided. They then talked of 
Glennaquoich, for whom the Baron expressed great anx- 
iety, although, he observed, he was “ the very Achilles 
of Horatius Flaccus, — 

Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer. 

Which,” he continued, “ has been thus rendered(ver- 
nacularly)by Struan Robertson : 

A fiery elter-cap, a fractious chiel, 

As het as ginger, and as stieve as steel.'^ 

Flora had a large and unqualified share of the good 
old man’s sympathy. 

It was now wearing late. Old Janet got into some 
kind of kennel behind the hallan ; Davie had been long 
asleep and snoring between Ban and Buscar. These 
dogs had followed him to the hut after the mansion-house 
was deserted, and there constantly resided ; and their 
ferocity, with the old woman’s reputation of being a witch, 
contributed a good deal to keep visiters from the glen. 
With this view, Baillie Macwheeble provided Janet un- 
derhand with meal for their maintenance, and also with 
little articles of luxury for his patron’s use, in supplying 
which much precaution was necessarily used. After 
some comuliments, the Baron occupied his usual couch, 


WAYF.RT.EY. 


187 


nnd Waverley reclined in an easy chair of tattered velvet, 
which had once garnished the state bed-room of Tully- 
V^eolan, (for the furniture of this mansion was now scattered 
through all the cottages in the vicinity,) and went to sleep 
as comfortably as if he had been in a bed of down. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

More Explanation, 

With the first dawn of day, old Janet was scuttling 
about the house to wake the Baron, who usually slept 
sound and heavily. 

“ 1 must go back,” he said to Waverley, “ to my cove ; 
will you walk down the glen wi’ me 

They went out together, and followed a narrow and 
entangled foot-path, which the occasional passage of an- 
glers, or wood-cutters, had traced by the side of the 
stream. On their way, the Baron explained to Waver- 
ley, that he would be under no danger in remaining a day 
or two at Tully-Veolan, and even in being seen walking 
about, if he used the precaution of pretending that he 
was looking at the estate as agent, or surveyor, for an 
English gentleman, who designed to be purchaser. 
With this view, he recommended to him to visit the Bail- 
lie, who still lived at the factor’s house, called Little 
Veolan, about a mile from the village, though he was to 
remove at next term. Stanley’s passport would be an 
answer to the officer who commanded the military ; and 
as to any of the country people who might recognize 
Waverley, the Baron assured him he was in no danger 
of being betrayed by them. 

“ I believe,” said the old man, “ half the people ol the 
barony know that their poor auld laird is somewhere here- 
about j fori see they do not suffer a single bairn to come 


188 


\ VI' I! L’’. V. 


here a bird-nesting ; a [)ractice, wliilk, when I was in fnll 
possession of my po-wer as Baron, I was unable tolall}^ to 
inhibit. Nay, 1 often find bits of things in my way, that 
the poor bodies, God. lielj) th(Mn ! leave tliere, because 
they think they may be usel’ul to me. 1 hope tiiey wall 
get a wiser master, and as kind a one as 1 was.” 

A natural sigh closed the sentence ; but the quiet 
equanimity wdth which the Baron endured his misfortunes, 
had somethinH: in it venerable and even sublime. There 
was no fruitless repining, no turbid melancholy ; he bore 
his lot, and the hardships which it involved, with a good- 
humoured, though serious composure, and used no vio- 
lent language against the prevailing party. 

“ 1 did what 1 thought my duty,” said the good old 
man, “ and questionless they are doing what they think 
theirs. It grieves me sometimes to look upon, these 
blackened walls of the house of my ancestors ; but 
doubtless officers cannot always keep the soldiers’ hand 
from depredation and spuilzie ; and Gustavus Adolphus 
himself, as ye may read in Colonel Munro his Expedi- 
tion wdth the worthy Scotch regiment called Mackay’s 
regiment, did often permit it. — Indeed I have myself 
seen as sad sights as Tully-Veolan now is, wffien I served 
with the Marechal Duke of Berwick. To be sure we 
may say with Virgilius Maro, Fuimus Troes — and there’s 
the end of an auld sang. But houses and families and 
men have a’ stood lang enough when they have stood 
till they fall wi’ honour ; and now I hae gotten a house 
that is not unlike a domus ultima‘s — they w^ere now stand- 
ing below a steep rock. “ We poor Jacobites,” contin- 
ued the Baron, looking up, “ are now like the conies in 
Holy Scripture, (which the great traveller Pococke cal- 
leth Jerboa,) a feeble people, that make our abode in the 
rocks. So, fare you well, my good lad, till we meet at 
Janet’s in the even, for I must get into my Patinos, which 
IS no easy matter for my auld stiff limbs.” 

With that he began to ascend the rock, striding, with 
the help of his hands, from one precarious footstep to 
another, till he sot about half way up, where two or thre 


waVkrley. 


189 


bushes concealed the mouth of a hole, resembling an 
oven, into which the Baron insinuated, first his head and 
shoulders, and then, by slow gradation, the rest of his 
long body, his legs and feet finally disappearing, coiled 
up like a huge snake entering his retreat, or a long pedi- 
gree introduced with care and difficulty into the narrow 
pigeon-hole of an old cabinet. Waverley had the curi- 
osity to clamber up and look in upon him in his den, as 
the lurking-place might well be termed. Upon the whole, 
he looked not unlike that ingenious puzzle, called a reel 
in a bottle, the marvel of children, (and of some grown 
people too, myself for one,) who can neither comprehend 
the mystery how it has got in, nor how it is to be taken 
out. The cave was very narrow, too low in the roof to 
admit of his standing, or almost of his sitting up, though 
he made some awkward attempts at the latter posture. 
His sole amusement was the perusal of his old friend 
Titus Livius, varied by occasionally scratching Latin 
proverbs and texts of Scripture with his knife on the 
roof and walls of his fortalice, which were of sand-stone. 
As the cave was dry and filled with clean straw and 
withered fern, “ it made,” as he said, coiling himself up 
with an air of snugness and comfort which contrasted 
strangely with his situation, “ unless when the wind was 
due north, a very passable gite for an old soldier.” 
Neither, as he observed, was he without sentries for 
the’ purpose of reconnoitring. Davie and his mother were 
constantly on the watch, to discover and avert danger ; 
and it was singular what instances of address seemed 
dictated by the instinctive attachment of the poor sim- 
pleton, when his patron’s safety was concerned. With 
Janet, Edward now sought an interview. He had re- 
cognized her at first sight as the old woman who had 
nursed him during his sickness after his delivery from 
Gifted Gilfillan. The hut also, though a little repaired, 
and somewhat better furnished, was certainly the place 
of his confinement ; and he now recollected on the com- 
mon moor of Tully-Veolan the trunk of a large decayed 
tree, called the trysting-tree^ which he had no doubt was 


190 


WAVERLEY. 


ihe same at which the Highlanders rendezvoused on that 
memorable night. All this he had combined in his im- 
agination the night before ; but reasons, which may prob- 
ably occur to the reader, prevented him from catechising 
Janet in the presence of the Baron. 

He now commenced the task in good earnest ; and the 
first question was, Who was the young lady that visited 
the hut during his illness f Janet paused for a little ; and 
then observed, that to keep the secret now, would neither 
do good nor ill to any body. 

“ It was just a leddy, that hasna her equal in the 
world — Miss Rose Bradwardine !” 

“ Then Miss Rose was probably also the author of my 
deliverance,” inferred Waverley, delighted at the confir- 
mation of an idea which local circumstances had already 
induced him to entertain. 

“ I wot weel, Mr. Wauverley, and that was she e’en ; 
but sair, sair angry and affronted wad she hae been, puir 
thing, if she had thought ye had been ever to ken a word 
about the matter ; for she gar’d me speak aye Gaelic 
when ye was in hearing, to mak ye trow we were in the 
Hiclands. I can speak it weel eneugh, for my mother 
was a Hieland woman.” 

A few more questions now brought out the whole mys- 
tery respecting Waverley’s deliverance from the bondage 
in which he left Cairnvreckan. Never did music sound 
sweeter to an amateur, than the drowsy tautology with 
which old Janet detailed every circumstance, thrilled 
upon the ears of Waverley. But my reader is not a 
lover, and I must spare his patience, by attempting to 
condense, within reasonable compass, the narrative which 
old Janet spread through an harangue of nearly two 
hours. 

When Waverley communicated to Fergus the letter 
he had received from Rose Bradwardine, by Davie Gel- 
latley, giving an account of Tully-Veolan being occupied 
by a small party of soldiers, that circumstance had struck 
upon the bi'sy and active iuiiid of the Chieftain. Eagei 


WAVERLKY. 


19J 


to distress and narrow the posts of the enemy, desirous 
to prevent their establishing a garrison so near him, and 
willing also to oblige the Baron — for he often had the 
idea of marriage with Rose floating through his brain, -r- 
he resolved to send some of his people to drive out the 
red-coats, and to bring Rose to Glennaquoich. But just 
as he had ordered Evan with a small party on this duty, 
the news of Cope’s having marched into the Highlands 
to meet and disperse the forces of the Chevalier, ere 
they came to a head, obliged him to join the standard 
with his whole forces. 

He sent to order Donald Bean to attend him ; but 
that cautious freebooter, who well understood the value 
of a separate command, instead of joining, sent various 
apologies which the pressure of the tinles compelled 
Fergus to admit as current, though not without the in- 
ternal resolution of being revenged on him for his pro- 
crastination, time and place convenient. However, as 
he could not amend the matter, he issued orders to Don- 
ald to descend into the low country, drive the soldiers 
from Tully-Veolan, and paying all respect to the mansion 
of the Baron, to take his abode somewhere near it, for 
protection of his daughter and family, and to harass and 
drive away any of the armed volunteers, or small parties 
of military, which he might find moving about in the 
vicinity. 

As this charge formed a sort of roving commission, 
which Donald proposed to interpret in the way most ad- 
vantageous to himself, as he was relieved from the im- 
mediate terrors of Fergus, and as he had from former 
secret services some interest in the councils of the Chev- 
alier, he resolved to make hay while the sun shone. He 
achieved, without difficulty, the task of driving the sol- 
diers from Tully-Veolan ; but although he did not ven- 
ture to encroach upon the interior of the family, or tc 
flisturb Miss Rose, being unwilling to make himself a 
(tnwerful enemy in the Chevalier’s- army, 

'' F'Jr well lie knew the Baron’s wrath was deadly ; 


192 


WAVEIILEY. 


yet he set about to raise contributions and exactions upon 
the tenantry, and otherwise to turn the war to his own 
advantage. Meanwhile he mounted the white cockade, 
and waited upon Rose with a pretext of great devotion 
for the service in which her father was engaged, and 
many apologies for the freedom he must necessarily use 
for the support of his people. It was at this moment 
that Rose learned, by open-mouthed fame, with all sorts 
of exaggeration, that Waverley had killed the smith at 
Cairnvreckan, in an attempt to arrest him ; had been 
cast into a dungeon by Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, 
and was to be executed by martial law within three days. 
In the agony which these tidings excited, she proposed 
to Donald Bean the rescue of the prisoner. It was the 
very sort of service which he was desirous to undertake, 
judging it might constitute a merit of such a nature as 
would make amends for any peccadilloes which he might 
be guilty of in the country. He had the art, however, 
pleading all the while duty and discipline, to hold off 
until poor Rose, in the extremity of her distress, offered 
to bribe him to the enterprize, with some valuable jewels 
which had been her mother’s. 

Donald Bean who had served in France, knew, and 
perhaps over-estimated, the value of these trinkets. But 
he also perceived Rose’s apprehensions of its being dis- 
covered that she had parted with her jewels for Waver- 
ley’s liberation. Resolved this scruple should not part 
him and the treasure, he voluntarily offered to take an 
oath that he would nev’^er mention Miss Rose’s share in 
the transaction, and foreseeing convenience in keeping 
the oath, and no probable advantage in breaking it, he 
took the engagement — in order, as he told his lieutenant, 
to deal handsomely by the young lady, — in the only mode 
and form which, by a mental paction with himself, he 
considered as binding — he swore secrecy upon his drawn 
dirk. He was the more especially moved to this act of 
good faith by some .attentions that Miss Bradwardine 
showed to his daughter Alice, which, wliile ihev gained 
the heart of the mountain damseh liighly gratified the 


WAVERLEY. 


193 


pride of her father. Alice, who could now speak a little 
English, was very communicative in return for Rose’s 
kindness, readily confided to her the whole papers re- 
specting the intrigue with Gardiner’s regiment, of which 
she was the depositary, and as readily undertook, at her 
instance, to restore them to Waverley without her father’s 
knowledge. “ For they may oblige the bonnie young 
lady and the handsome young gentleman,” said Alice, 
“ and what use has my father for a whin bits o’ scarted 
paper ?” 

The reader is aware that she took an opportunity of 
executing this purpose on the eve of Waverley ’s leaving 
the glen. 

How Donald executed his enterprize, the reader is 
aware. But the expulsion of the military from Tully- 
Veolan had given alarm, and, while he was lying in wait 
for Gilfillan, a strong party, such as Donald did not care 
to face, was sent to drive back the insurgents in their 
turn, to encamp there, and to protect the country. The 
officer, a gentleman and a disciplinarian, neither intruded 
himself on Miss Bradwardine, whose unprotected situa- 
tion he respected, nor permitted his soldiers to commit 
any breach of discipline. He formed a little camp, up- 
on an eminence, near the house of Tully-Veolan, and 
placed proper guards at the passes in the vicinity. This 
unwelcome news reached Donald Bean Lean as he was 
returning to Tully-Veolan. Determined, however, to 
obtain the guerdon of his labour, he resolved, since ap- 
proach to Tully-Veolan was impossible, to deposit his 
prisoner in Janet’s cottage, a place, the very existence of 
which could hardly have been suspected even by those 
who had long lived in the vicinity, unless they had been 
guided thither, and which was utterly unknown to Wa- 
verley himself. This effected, he claimed and received 
his reward. Waveiley’s illness was an event which 
deranged all their calculations. Donald was obliged to 
leave the neighbourhood with hi^^eople, and to seek 
more free course for his adventures elsewhere. At 


VOL. II. 


194 


WAVERIEY. 


Rose’s earnest entreaty, he left an old man, a herbalist 
who was supposed to understand a little of medicine, to 
attend Waverley during his illness. 

In the meanwhile, new and fearful doubts started in 
Rose’s mind. They were suggested by old Janet, who 
insisted, that a reward having been offered for the appre- 
hension of Waverley, and his own personal effects being 
so valuable, there was no saying to what breach of faith 
Donald might be tempted. In an agony of grief and 
terror. Rose took the daring resolution of explaining to 
the Prince himself the danger in which Mr. Waverley 
stood, judging that, both as a politician, and a man of 
honour and humanity, Charles Edward would interest 
himself to prevent his falling info the hands of the oppo- 
site party. This letter she at first thought of sending 
anonymously, but naturally feared it would not, in that 
case, be credited. She therefore subscribed her name, 
though with reluctance 'and terror, and consigned it in 
charge to a young man, who, at leaving his farm to join 
the Chevalier’s army, made it his petition to her to have 
some sort of credentials to the Adventurer, from whom 
he hoped to obtain a commission. 

The letter reached Charles Edward on his descent to 
the Lowlands, and, aware of the political importance 
of having it supposed that he was in correspondence 
with the English Jacobites, he caused the most positive 
orders to be transmitted to Donald Bean Lean, to trans- 
mit Waverley, safe and uninjured, in person or effects, 
to the governor of Donne Castle. The freebooter durst 
not disobey, for the army of the Prince was nov/ so near 
him that punishment might have followed ; besides, he 
was a politician as well as a robber, and was unwilling to 
cancel the interest created through former secret servi- 
ces, by being refractory on this occasion. He therefore 
made a virtue of necessity, and transmitted orders to his 
lieutenant to convey Edward to Doune, which was safely 
accomplished in tlr||^ode mentioned in a former chap- 
ter. The governor of Doune was directed to send him 
to Edinburgh as a prisoner, because the Prince was ap- 


WAVERLEY. 


196 


prehensive that Waverley, if set at liberty, might have 
resumed bis purpose of returning to England, without af- 
fording him an opportunity of a personal interview. In 
this, indeed, he acted by advice of the Chieftain of Glen- 
naquoich, with whom it may be remembered the Cheva- 
lier communicated upon the mode of disposing of Ed- 
ward, though without telling him how he came to learn 
the place of his confinement. 

This, indeed, Charles Edward considered as a lady’s 
secret ; for although Rose’s letter was couched in the 
most cautious and general terms, and professed to be 
written merely from motives of humanity, and zeal for 
the Prince’s service, yet she expressed so anxious a wish 
that she should not be known to have interfered, that the 
Chevalier was induced to suspect the deep interest 
which she took in Waverley ’s safety. This conjecture, 
which w’as well-founded, led, however to false inferen- 
ces. For the emotion which Edward displayed on ap- 
proaching Flora and Rose at the ball of Holyrood, was 
placed by the Chevalier to the account of the latter ; 
and he concluded that the Baron’s views about the set- 
tlement of his property, or some such obstacle thwarted 
their mutual inclinations. Common fame, it is true, fre- 
quently gave Waverley to Miss Mac-Ivor ; but the 
Prince knew that common fame is very prodigal in such 
gifts ; and, watching attentively the behaviour of the la- 
dies toward Waverley, he had no doubt that the young 
Englishman had no interest with Flora, and was beloved 
by Rose Bradwardine. Desirous to bind Waverley to 
his service, and wishing also to do a kind and friendly 
action, the Prince next assailed the Baron on the sub- 
ject of settling his estate upon his daughter. Mr. 
Bradwardine acquiesced ; but the consequence was, that 
Fergus was immediately induced to prefer his double 
suit for a wife and an earldom, which the Prince reject- 
ed, in the manner we have seen. JTiie Chevalier, con- 
stantly engaged in his own multi jdlgd affairs, had not 
hitherto sought any explanation with Waverley, though 
often meaning to do so. But after Fergus’s declaration^ 


196 


WAVERLEY. 


lie saw the necessity of appearing neutral between the 
rivals, devoutly hoping that the matter, which now seem- 
ed fraught with the seeds of strife, might be permitted to 
lie over till the termination of the expedition. When 
on the march to Derby, Fergus, being questioned con- 
cerning his quarrel with Waverley, alleged as the cause, 
that Edward was desirous of retracting the suit he had 
made to his sister, the Chevalier plainly told him that he 
had himself observed Miss Mac-Ivor’s behaviour to 
Waverley, and that he was convinced Fergus was under 
the influence of a mistake in judging of Waverley ’s 
conduct, who, he had every reason to believe, was en- 
gaged to Miss Bradwardine. The quarrel which ensued 
between Edward and the Chieftain is, I hope, still in the 
remembrance of the reader. These circumstances wfll 
serve to explain such points of our narrative as, accord- 
ing to the custom of story-tellers, we deemed fit to 
leave unexplained, for the purpose of exciting the read- 
er’s curiosity. 

When Janet had once finished the leading facts of 
this narrative, Waverley was easily enabled to apply the 
clue which they afforded, to other mazes of the labyrinth 
in which he had been engaged. To Rose Bradwardine, 
then, he owed the life which he now thought he could 
willingly have laid down to serve her. A little reflec- 
tion convinced him, however, that to live for her sake 
was more convenient and agreeable, and that, being 
possessed of independence, she might share it with him 
either in foreign countries or in his own. The pleasure 
of being allied to a man of the Baron’s high worth, and 
who was so much valued by his uncle Sir Everard, was 
also an agreeable consideration, had anything been want- 
ing to recommend the match. His absurdities, which 
had appeared grotesquely ludicrous during his prosperity, 
seemed, in the sunset of his fortune, to be harmonized 
and assimilated wi^jhe noble features of his character, 
so as to add pecuMBy without exciting ridicule. His 
mind occupied with such projects of future happiness^ 


WAVERJ.F.Y. 


197 


Edward sought Little Veolan, the habitation of Mr 
Duncan Macwheeble. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

J\oiv is Cupid a child of conscience — he makes restitution. 

Shakspeare. 


]Mr. Duncan Macwheeble, no longer Commissary 
or Baillie, though still enjoying the empty name of the 
latter dignity, had escaped proscription by an early se- 
cession from the insurgent party, and by his insignificance. 

Edward found him in his office, immersed among pa- 
pers and accounts. Before him was a large bicker of 
oatmeal-porridge, and at the side thereof, a horn-spoon 
and a bottle of two-penny. Eagerly running his eye 
over a voluminous law-paper, he from time to time shov- 
elled an immense spoonful of these nutritive viands into 
Ids capacious mouth. A pot-bellied Dutch bottle of 
brandy, which stood by, intimated either that this honest 
limb of the law had taken bis morning already, or that 
he meant to season his porridge with such digestive, or 
perhaps both circumstances might reasonably be inferied. 
His night-cap and morning gown had vvhilome been of 
tartan, but, equally cautious and frugal, the honest Bail- 
lie had got them dyed black, lest their original ill-omen- 
ed colour might remind his visiters of his unlucky ex- 
cursion to Derby. To sum up the picture, his face was 
daubed with snuff up to the eyes, and his fingers with 
ink up to the knuckles. He looked dubiously at Wa- 
verley as he approached the little green rail which fenced 
his desk and stool from the aonro^h of the vulgar. 
Nothing could give the Qaillie mor^Bnoyance than tlie 
ideaofhis ac(juaintance being claimetnSy any of the unfor- 

VOL. II. 


'NVAVERLET. 


I9S 

tunate gentlemen, who were now so much more likely to 
need assistance than to afford profit. But this was tne 
rich young Englishman — who knew what might be his 
situation t — he was the Baron’s friend too — what was to 
be done F 

While these reflections gave an air of absurd perplex- 
ity to the poor man’s visage, Waverley, reflecting on the 
communication he was about to make to him, of a na- 
ture so ridiculously contrasted with the appearance of 
the individual, could not help bursting out a-laughing, as 
he checked the propensity to exclaim, with Syphax, — 

“ Cato’s a proper person to intrust 
A love-tale with.” 


As Mr. Macwheeble had no idea of any person laugh- 
ing heartily, who was either encircled by peril or oppress- 
ed by poverty, the hilarity of Edward’s countenance 
greatly relieved the embarrassment of his own, and, giv- 
ing him a tolerably hearty welcome to Little Veolan, he 
asked wdiat he would choose for breakfast. His visiter 
had, in the first place, something for his private ear, and 
begged leave to bolt the door. Duncan by no means 
liked this precaution, which savoured of danger to be 
apprehended ; but he could not now draw back. 

Convinced he might trust this man, as he could make 
it his interest to be faithful, Edward communicated his 
present situation and future schemes to Macwheeble. 
The wily agent listened with apprehension when he found 
Waverley was still in a state of proscription — was some- 
what comforted by learning that he had a pass[X)rt — 
rubbed his hands with glee when he mentioned the 
amount of his present fortune — opened huge eyes when 
he heard the brilliancy of his future expectations — but 
when he expressed his intention to share them with Miss 
Rose Bradwardine, ecstacy had almost deprived the 
honest man of hid^ses. The Baillie started from his 
three-footed stool the Pythoness from her tripod ; 
flung his best wig out of the window, because the block 


WAVERLEY. 


199 


on which it was placed stood in the way of his careei ; 
chucked his cap to the ceiling, caught it as it fell ; 
whistled Tullochgoruni ; danced a Highland fling with 
inimitable grace and agility, and then threw himself ex- 
hausted into a chair, exclaiming, ‘‘ Lad Wauverley ! — ■ 
ten thousand a year, the least penny I — Lord preserve 
my poor understanding 1” — 

“ Amen, with all my heart,” said Waverley ; ‘‘ but 
now, Mr. Macwheeble, let us proceed to business.” 
This word had somewhat a sedative effect, but the Bail- 
lie’s head, as he expressed himself, was still “ in the 
bees.” He mended his pen, however, marked half a 
dozen sheets of paper with an ample marginal fold, 
whipped down Dallas of St. Martin’s Styles from a shelf, 
where that venerable work roosted with Stair’s Institutions, 
Dirleton’s Doubts, Balfour’s Practiques, and a parcel of 
old account-books — opened the volume at the article 
Contract of Marriage, and prepared to make what he 
called a “ sma’ minute, to prevent parties frae resiling.” 

With some difficulty, Waverley made him comprehend 
that he was going a little too fast. He explained to him 
that he should w'ant his assistance, in the first place, to 
make his residence safe for the time, by writing to the 
officer at Tully-Veolan, that Mr. Stanley, an English 
gentleman, nearly related to Colonel Talbot, was upon 
a visit of business at Mr. Macwheeble’s, and, knowing 
the state of the country, had sent his passport for Cap- 
tain Foster’s inspection. This produced a polite an- 
swer from the officer, with an invitation to Mr. Stanley 
to dine with him, which was declined (as may easily be 
supposed,) under pretence of business. 

Waverley's next request was, that Mr. Macwheeble 

would despatch a man and horse to , the post-town 

at which Colonel Talbot was to address him, with direc- 
tions to wait there until the post should bring a letter for 
Mr. Stanley, and then to forwa^Lit to Little Veolan 
with all speed. In a moment, thc^Baillie was in search 
of his apprentice (or servitor, as he was called Sixty 
Vears Since,) Jock Scriever, and in not much greater 


200 


WAVEKIEY. 


space of time, Jock was on the back of the white 
pony. 

“ Tak care ye guide him weel, sir, for he’s aye been 
short in the wind since — a hem — Lord be gude to me f 
(in a low voice,) I was gaim to come out wi’ — since I 
rode whip and spur to fetch the Chevalier to redd Mr. 
Wauverley and Vich Ian Vohr ; and an uncanny coup I 
gat for my pains. — Lord forgie your honour ! I might 
hae broken my neck — but troth it was in a venture, mae 
ways nor ane ; but this maks amends for a’. Lady 
Wauverley ! — ten thousand a -year ! — Lord be gude 
unto me !” 

“ But you forget, Mr. Macwheeble, we want the 
Baron’s consent — the lady’s — ” 

‘‘ Never fear, I’se be caution for them — I’se gie you 
my personal warrandice — ten thousand a-year ! it dings 
Balmawhapple out and out — a year’s rent’s worth a’ 
Balmawhapple, fee and life-rent ! Lord make us thank- 
ful !” 

To turn the current of his feelings, Edward inquired 
if he had heard anything lately of the Chieftain of 
Glennaquoich ? 

“ Not one word,” answered Macwheeble, ‘‘ but that 
he was still in Carlisle Castle, and was soon to be pan- 
nelled for his life. I dinna wish the young gentleman 
ill,” he said, “ but I hope that they that hae got him 
will keep him, and no let him back to this Hieland bor- 
der to plague us^with black-mail and a’ manner o’ vio- 
lent, wrongous, and masterfu’ oppression and spoliation, 
both by himself and others of his causing, sending, and 
hounding out ; and he couldna tak care o’ the siller 
when he had gotten it neither, but flang it a’ into yon 
idle quean’s lap at Edinburgh — but light come, light 
gane. For my part, I never wish to see a kilt in the 
country again, nor a red-coat, nor. a. gun, for that matter 
unless it were to sh^t a patrick : — they’re a’ tarr’d wi* 
ae stick. And wheiSthey’ve done ye wrang, even when 
ye hae gotten decreet of spuilzie oppression, and vio 


WAVERLEY. 


201 


lent profits against .hem, what better are ye ? — they hae 
na a plack to pay you ; ye need never extract it.” 

With such discourse, and the intervening topics oi 
business, the time passed until dinner, Macvvheeble 
meanwhile promising to devise some mode of introducing 
Edward at the Duchran, where Rose at present resided, 
without risk of danger or suspicion, which seemed no 
very easy task, since the laird was a very zealous friend 
to government. The poultry-yard had been laid under 
requisition, and cockyleeky and Scotch collops soon 
reeked in the Baillie’s little parbur. The landlord’s 
cork-screw was just introduced into the muzzle of a 
pint-bottle of claret, (cribbed possibly from the cellars 
of Tully-Veolan,) when the sight of the grey pony 
passing the window at full trot, induced the Baillie, but 
with due precaution, to place it aside for the moment. 
Enter Jock Scriever with a packet for Mr. Stanley ; it 
is Colonel Talbot’s seal ; and Edward’s fingers tremble 
as he undoes it. Two official papers, folded, signed, 
and sealed in all formality, drop out. They w'ere hast- 
ily picked up by the Baillie, who had a natural respect 
for every thing resembling a deed, and glancing slily on 
their titles, his eyes, or rather spectacles, are greeted 
with “ Protection by his Royal Highness to the person 
of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq. of that ilk, com- 
monly called Baron of Bradwardine, forfeited for his 
accession to the late rebellion.” The other proves to 
be a protection of the same tenor in favour of Edward 
Waverley, Esq. Colonel Talbot’s letter was in these 
words : 

“ My dear Edward, 

“ I am just arrived here, and yet I have finished my 
business ; it has cost me some trouble though, as you 
shall hear. I waited upon his Royal Highness immedi- 
ately on my arrival, and found very good 

humour for my purpose. Thre&t)^ four Scotch gentle- 
men \vere just leaving his levee. Alifer he had express- 
ed himself to me very courteously : “ Would yfeu think 


202 


WAVERLEY. 


it,” he said, “ Talbot, here have been half a dozen of 
the most respectable gentlemen, and best friends to gov- 
ernment north of the Forth, Major Melville of Cairn- 
vreckan, Rubrick of Duchran, and others, who have 
fairly wrung from me, by their downright importunity, a 
present protection, and the promise oi a future pardon, 
for that stubborn old rebel whom they call Baron of 
Bradwardine. They allege that his high personal char- 
acter, and the clemency which he showed to such of 
our people as fell into the rebels’ hands, should weigh in 
his favour ; especially as the loss of his estate is likely to 
be a severe enough punishment. Ruhrick has under- 
taken to keep him at his own house till things are settled 
in the country ; but it’s a little hard to be forced in a 
manner to pardon such a mortal enemy to the House of 
Brunswick.” This was no favourable moment for open- 
ing my business ; however, I said I was rejoiced to learn 
that his Royal Highness was in the course of granting 
such requests, as it emboldened me to present one of 
the like nature in my own name. He was very angry, 
but 1 persisted ; I mentioned the uniform support of our 
three votes in the house, touched modestly on services 
abroad, though valuable only in his Royal Highness’s 
having been pleased kindly to accept them, and founded 
pretty strongly on his own expressions of friendship and 
good-will. He was embarrassed, but obstinate. I hint- 
ed the policy of detaching, on all future occasions, the 
heir of such a fortune as your uncle’s, from the machina- 
tions of the disaffected. But I made no impression. I 
mentioned the obligations which Hay under to Sir Ever- 
ard, and to you personally, and claimed, as the sole re- 
ward of my services, that he would be pleased to afford 
me the means of evincing my gratitude. 1 perceived 
that he still meditated a refusal, and, taking my commis- 
sion from my pocket, I said, (as a last resource,) that as 
his Royal Highness did not, under these pressing cir- 
cumstances, think mie >vorthy of a favour which he had 
not scrupled to giant to other gentlemen, whose services 
I coul(k>hardly judge more important than my own, I 


WAVE RLE Y- 


?03 

must beg leave to deposit, with all humility, my commis- 
sion in his Royal Highness’s hands, and to retire from 
the service. He was not prepared for this ; he told me 
to take up my commission ; said some very handsome 
things of my services, and granted my request. You 
are therefore once more a free man, and I have promised 
for you that you will be a good boy in future, and re- 
member what you owe to the lepity of government. 
Thus you see my Prince can be as generous as yours. I 
do not pretend, indeed, that he confers a favour with all 
the foreign graces and compliments of your Chevalier 
errant ; but he has a plain English manner, and the evi- 
dent reluctance with which he grants your request, indi- 
cates the sacrifice which he makes of his own inclination 
to your wishes. My friend, the adjutant-general, has 
procured me a duplicate of the Baron’s protection, (the 
original being in Major Melville’s possession,) which 1 
send to you, as I know J,hat if you can find him you will 
have pleasure in being the first to communicate the joy- 
ful intelligence. He will of course repair to the Duchran 
without loss of time, there to ride quarantine for a few 
weeks. As for you, I give you leave to escort him thith- 
er, and to stay a week there, as I understand a certain 
fair lady is in that quarter. And I have the pleasure to 
tell you, that whatev^er progress you can make in her 
good graces will be highly agreeable to Sir Everard and 
Mrs. Rachel, who will never believe your views and 
prospects settled, and the three ermines passant in actual 
safety, until you present them with a Mrs. Edward 
Waverley. Now, certain love-affairs of my own — a 
good many years since — interrupted some measures 
which were then proposed in favour of the three ermines 
passant ; so I am bound in honour to make them amends. 
Therefore make good use of your time, for, when your 
week is expired, it will be necessary that you go to Lon- 
don to plead your pardon in the law courts. Ever, dear 
Waverley, your’s most truly, Philip Talbot.” 


WAVE RLE Y. 




CHAPTER XXXI. 

Happy's the wooing 
That's not long a-doing. 

When the first rapturous sensation occasioned by these 
excellent tidings had somewhat subsided, Edward pro- 
posed instantly to go down to tbe glen to' acquaint the 
Baron with their import. But the cautious Baillie justly 
observed, that if the Baron were to appear instantly in 
public, the tenantry and villagers might become riotous 
in expressing their joy, and give offence to the “ powers 
that be,” a sort of persons for whom the Baillie always 
had unlimited respect. He therefore proposed that Mr. 
Waverley should go to Janet Gellatley’s, and bring the 
Baron up under cloud of night to Little Veolan, where 
he might once more enjoy the luxury of a good bed. In 
the meanwhile, he said, he himself would go to Captain 
Foster, and show him the Baron’s protection, and obtain 
his countenance for harbouring him that night, and he 
would have horses ready on the morrow to set him on 
his way to the Duchran along with Mr. Stanley, “ whilk 
denomination, I apprehend, your honour will for the 
present retain,” said the Baillie. 

“ Certainly, Mr. Macwheeble ; but will you not go 
down to the glen yourself in the evening to meet your 
patron .^” 

“ That I wad wi’ a’ my heart ; and mickle obliged to 
your* honour for putting me in mind of my bounclen duty. 
But it will be past sunset afore I get back frae the Cap- 
tain’s, and at these unsonsy hours the glen has a bad name 
' — there’s something no that canny about auld Janet Gel- 
latley. The laird he’ll no believe thae things, but he 
was aye ower rash and venturesome — and feared neither 
# 


WAVE RLE Y. 


205 


man nor deevil — and sae’s seen o’t. But right sure am I 
Sir George Mackenyie says, that no divine can doubt 
there are witches, since the Bible says thou shall not suf- 
fer them to live ; and that no lawyer in Scotland can 
doubt it, since it is punishable with death by our law. So 
there’s baith law and gospel for it. An his honour winna 
believe the Leviticus, he might aye believe the Statute- 
book — but he may tak his ain way o’t ; it’s a’ ane to Dun- 
can Macwheeble. However, I shall send to ask up auld 
Janet this e’en ; it’s best no to lightly them that have that 
character — and we’ll want Davie to turn the spit, for I’ll 
gar Eppie put down a fat goose to the fire for your hon- 
ours to your supper.” 

When it was near sunset, Waverley hastened to the 
hut, and he could not but allow that superstition had 
chosen no improper locality, or unfit object, for the foun- 
dation of her fantastic terrors. It resembled exactly the 
description of Spencer : 


** There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found 
A little cottage built of sticks and reeds, 

In homely wise, and wall’d with sods around. 

In which a witch did dwell in loathly weeds. 

And wilful want, all careless of her needs : 

So choosing solitary to abide 
Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deeds. 

And hellish arts, from people she might hide. 

And hurt far ofl', unknown, whonisoever she espied.” 

He entered the cottage with these verses in his mem- 
ory. Poor old Janet, bent double with age, and bleared 
with peat smoke, was tottering about the hut with a birch 
broom, muttering to herself as she endeavoured to make 
her hearth and floor a little clean for the reception of her 
expected guests. Waverley’s step made her start, look 
up, and fall a-trembling, so much had her nerves been 
on the rack for her patron’s safety. With difficulty Wa- 
verley made her comprehend that the Baron was now 
safe from personal danger ; and when her mind had ad- 
23 VOL. II. 


206 


WAVER LEY. 


mitted that joyful news, it was equally bard to make her 
believe that he was not to enter again upon possession of 
liis estate. “ It behoved to be,” she said, “ he wad get 
it back again ; naebody wad be sae gripple as to tak his 
gear after they had gi’en him a pardon ; and for that 
fnch-Grabbit, I could Whiles wish mysel a witch for his 
sake, if I werena feared the Enemy wad tak me at my 
word.” Waverley then gave her some money, and 
promised that her fidelity should be rewarded. “ How 
can 1 be rewarded, sir, sae weel, as just to see my 
aukl maister and Miss Rose come back and bruik' their 
ain ?” 

Wav3rley now took leave of Janet, and soon stood be- 
neath the Baron’s Patmos. At a low whistle, he ob- 
served the veteran peeping out to reconnoitre, like an 
old badger with his head out of his hole. “ Ye hae 
come rather early, my good lad,” said he, descending ; 
“ I question if the red-coats hae beat the tattoo yet, and 
we’re not safe till then.” 

“ Good news cannot be told too soon,” said Waverley, 
and with infinite joy communicated to him the happy 
tidings. The old man stood for a moment in silent devo- 
tion, then exclaimed, * Praise be to God ! — I shall see 
my bairn again.” 

“ And never, J hope, to part with her more,” said 
Waverley. 

“ I trust in God, not, unless it be to win the means of 
supporting her 5 for my things are but in a bruckle 
state ; — but what signifies warld’s gear .^” 

“ And if,” said Waverley, modestly, “ there were a 
situation in life which would put Miss Bradwardine be- 
yond the uncertainty of fortune, and in the rank to which 
she was born, would you object to. it my dear Baron, 
Decause it would make one of your friends the happiest 
man in the world The Baron turned, and looked at 
him with great earnestness. “ Yes,” continued Ed- 
ward, “ I shall not consider my sentence of banishment 
as repealed, unless you will give me permission to ac- 
company you to the Duchran, and” 


WAVERLEY. 


20 ’? 


The Baron seemed collecting all his dignity to make 
a suitable reply to what, at another time, he would have 
treated as the propounding a treaty of alliance between 
the houses of Bradwardine and Waverley. But his ef- 
forts were in vain ; the father was too mighty for the 
Baron ; the pride of birth and rank w^ere swept away j 
• — in the joyful surprise, a slight convulsion passed rap- 
idly over his features as he gave way to the feelings of 
nature, threw his arms around Waverley’s neck, and sob- 
bed out, — My son, my son ! if 1 had been to search 
the world, I would have made my choice here.” Ed- 
ward returned the embrace with great sympathy of feel- 
ing, and for a little while they both kept silence. At 
length it was broken by' Edward. “ But Miss Brad- 
wardine 

“ She had never a will but her old father’s ; besides, 
you are a likely youth, of honest principles, and high 
birth ; no, she never had any other will than mine, and 
in my proudest days I could not have wished a mair eli- 
gible espousal for her than the nephew of my excellent 
old friend. Sir Everard, — But I hope, young man, ye 
deal na rashly in this matter ? I hope ye hae secured the 
approbation of your ain friends and allies, particularly 
of your uncle, who is in loco parentis ? Ah ! we maun 
tak heed o’ that.” Edward assured him that Sir Ever- 
ard would think himself highly honoured in the flattering 
reception his proposal had met with, and that it had his 
entire approbation ; in evidence of which, he put Colo- 
nel Talbot’s letter into the Baron’s hand. The Baron 
read it with great attention. “ Sir Everard,” he said, 
“ always despised wealth in comparison of honour and 
birth ; and indeed he hath no occasion to court the Diva 
Pecunia, Yet I now wish, since this Malcolm turns out 
such a parricide, for I can call him no belter, as to think 
of alienating the family inheritance — I now wish (his 
eyes fixed on a part of the roof which was visible above 
the trees,) that 1 could have left Rose the auld hurley- 
house, and tlie riggs belanging to it. — And yet,” said ho 
resuming more cheerfully, “ it’s maybe as weel as it is , 


208 


WAVERLEY. 


for, as Baron of Bradwardine, I might have thought ' 
my duty to insist upon certain compliances respecting 
name and bearings, whilk now, as a landless laird wi’ a 
tocherless daughter, no one can blame me for departing 
from.” 

Now, Heaven be praised ! thought Edward, that Sir 
Everard does not hear these scruples ! The three ermines 
passant and rampant bear would certainly have gone to- 
gether by the ears. — He then, with all the ardour of a 
young lover, assured the Baron, that he sought for his 
happiness only in Rose’s heart and hand, and thought 
himself as happy in her father’s simple approbation, as 
if he had settled an earldom upon his daughter. 

They now reached Little Veolan. The goose was 
smoking on the table, and the Baillie brandished his 
knife and fork. A joyous greeting took place between 
him and his patron. The kitchen, too, had its company. 
Auld Janet was established at the ingle-nook ; Davie 
had turned the spit to his immortal honour ; and even 
Ban and Buscar, in the liberality of Macwheeble’s joy, 
had been stuffed to the throat with food, and now lay 
snoring on the floor. 

The next day conducted the Baron and his young 
friend to the Duchran, where the former was expected, 
in consequence of the success of the nearly unanimous 
application of the Scottish friends of government in his 
favour. This had been so general and so powerful, that 
it was almost thought his estate might have been saved, 
had it not passed into the rapacious hands of his unwor- 
thy kinsman, whose right, arising out of the Baron’s at- 
tainder, could not be effected by a pardon from the 
crown. The old gentleman, however, said, with his 
usual spirit, he was more gratified by the hold he pos- 
sessed in the good opinion of his neighbours, than he 
would have been in being “ rehabilitated and restored in 
intes^rum, had it been found practicable.” 

We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the 
father and daughter, — loving each other so affectionately, 
and separated under such perilous circumstances . Still 


'SVAVERLEY. 


209 


less shall we attempt to analyze the deep blush of Rose, 
at receiving the compliments ofWaverley,orstoptoinquire 
whether she had any curiosity respecting the particular 
cause of his journey to Scotland at that period. We 
shall not even trouble the reader with the humdrum de- 
tails of a courtship Sixty Years Since. It is enough to 
say, that, under so strict a martinet as the Baron, all 
things were conducted in due form. He took upon him- 
self, the morning after their arrival, the task of announc- 
ing the proposal of Waverley to Rose, which she heara 
with a proper degree of maiden timidity. Fame does, 
however, say, that Waverley had, the evening before, 
found five minutes to apprize her of what was coming, 
while the rest of the company were looking at three 
twisted serpents, which formed ^jet d^eauin the garden. 

My fair readers will judge for themselves ; but, for 
my part, I cannot conceive how so important an affair 
could be communicated in so short a space of time ; at 
least, it certainly took a full hour in the Baron’s mode of 
conveying it. 

Waverley was now considered as a received lover in 
all the forms. He was made, by dint of smirking and 
nodding, on the part of the lady of the house, to sit next 
Miss Bradwardine at dinner, to be Miss Bradwardine’s 
partner at cards. If he came into the room, she of the 
four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose, was 
sure to recollect that her thimble, or her scissors, were 
at the other end of the room, in order to leave the seat 
nearest to Miss Bradwardine vacant for his occupation. 
And sometimes, if papa and mamma were not in the 
way to keep them on their good behaviour, tlie misses 
would titter a little. The old Laird of Duchran would 
also have his occasional jest, and the old lady her re- 
mark. Even the Baron could not refrain : but here 
Rose escaped every embarrassment but that of conjec- 
ture, for his wit was usually couched in a Latin quota- 
tion. The very footmen sometimes grinned too broadly, 
the maid-servants giggled mayhap too loud, and a pro- 
VOL. II. 


210 


AVAVERLE Y. 


yoking air of intelligence seemed to pervade tlie whole 
family. Alice Bean, the pretty maid of the cavern, who, 
after her father’s misfortune, as she called it, had attend- 
ed Rose as fille-de-chambre, smiled and smirked with 
the best of them. Rose and Edward, however, endur- 
ed all these little vexatious circumstances as other folks 
have done before and since, and probably contrived to 
obtain some indemnification, since they are not supposed, 
on the whole, to have been particularly unhappy during 
VVaverley’s six days stay at the Duchran. 

It was finally arranged that Edward should go to \Va- 
verley-Honour to make tlie necessary arrangements for 
Dis marriage, thence to London to take the proper meas- 
ures for pleading liis pardon, and return as soon as pos- 
sible to claim the hand of his })lighted bride, lie also 
intended in his journey to visit Colonel Talbot ; but, 
above all, it was his most important object to learn the 
fate of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoich ; to visit 
him at Carlisle, and to try whether any thing could be 
done for procuring, if not a pardon, a commutation at 
least, or alleviation of the punishment to which he was 
almost certain of being condemned ; and, in case of 
the worst, to offer the miserable Flora an asylum with 
Rose, or otherwise to assist her views in any mode which 
might seem possible. The fate of Fergus seemed hard 
*lo be averted. Edward had already striven to interest 
his friend, Colonel Talbot, in his behalf ; but had been 
given distinctly to understand by his reply, that his credit 
in matters of that nature was totally exhausted. 

The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to 
wait there for some months upon business confided to 
him by the Duke of Cumberland. He was to be joined 
by Lady Emily, to whom easy travelling and goat’s whey 
were recommended, and who was to journey northward, 
under the escort of Francis Stanley. Edward, there- 
fore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who wished him 
joy in the kindest manner on his approaching happiness, 
and cheerfully undertook many commissions which our 
hero was necessarily obliged to delegate to his charge 


W AVERLKY. 


211 


But on the subject of Fergus he was inexorable. He sat 
isfied Edward, indeed, that his interference would be un- 
availing ; but, besides. Colonel Talbot owned that he 
could not conscientiously use any influence in favour ol 
that unfortunate gentleman. “Justice,” he said, “ which 
demanded some penalty of those who had wrapped the 
whole nation in fear and in mourning, could not perhaps 
have selected a fitter victim. He came to the field with 
the fullest light upon the nature of his attempt. He had 
studied and understood the subject. His father’s fate 
could not intimidate him ; the lenity of the laws which 
had restored to him his father’s property and rights could 
not melt him. That he was brave, generous, and possessed 
many good qualities, only rendered him the more danger- 
ous ; that he was enlightened and accomplished, made his 
crime the less excusable ; that he was an enthusiast in a 
wrong cause, only made him the more fit to be its martyr. 
Above all, he had been the means of bringing many hun- 
dreds of men into the field, who, without him, would 
never have broken the peace of the country. 

“ I repeat it,” said the Colonel, “ though heaven 
knows with a heart distressed for him as an individual, that 
this young gentleman has studied and fully understood the 
desperate game which he has played. He threw for life 
or death, a coronet or a coffin ; and he jj^annot now be 
permitted, with justice to the country, to draw stakes, 
because the dice have gone against him.” '* 

Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by 
brave and humane men towards a vanquished enemy. 
Let us devoutly hope, that, in this respect at least, we 
shall never see the scenes, or hold the sentiments, that 
were general in Britain Sixty Years Since. 


212 


WAVERLKY. 


CHAPTER XXXll. 

To-Morrow 1 O ihafs sudden 1 — Spare him, spare 
him ! Shakspeare., 

Edward, attended by his former servant Alick Pol- 
warth, who had re-entered his service at Edinburgh, 
reached Carlisle while the commission of Oyer and Ter- 
miner on his unfortunate associates was yet sitting. He 
had pushed forward in haste, not, alas ! with the most 
distant hope of saving Fergus, but to see him for the last 
time. I ought to have mentioned, that he had furnished 
funds for the defence of the prisoners in the most liberal 
manner, as soon as he heard that the day of trial was 
fixed. A solicitor, and the first counsel, accordingly at- 
tended ; but it was upon the same footing on which the 
first physicians are usually summoned to the bed-side of 
some dying man of rank ; the doctors to take the advan- 
tage of some incalculable chance of an exertion of na- 
ture — the lawyers to avail themselves of the barely pos- 
sible occurrence of some legal flaw. Edward pressed 
into the court, which was extremely crowded ; but by 
his arriving from the north, and his extreme eagerness 
and agitation, it was supposed he was a relation of the 
prisoners, and people made way for him. It was the 
third sitting of the court, and there were two men at the 
bar. The verdict of guilty was already pronounced. 
Edward just glanced at the bar during the momentous 
pause which ensued. There was no mistaking the state- 
ly form and noble features of Fergus Mac-Ivor, although 
his dress was squalid, and his countenance tinged with 
die sickly yellow hue of long and close imprisonment. 
By his side was Evan Maccombich. Edward felt sick 
and dizzy as he gazed on them ; hut he was recalled to 
himsell as die Clerk of Arraigns pronounced the solemn 


WAVERLEY. 


213 


words : Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glennaqiioich, otherwise 
called Vich Ian Vohr, and Evan Mac-Ivor, in the Dhu 
of Tarrascleugh, otherwise called Evan Dhu, otherwise 
called Evan Maccombich, or Evan Dhu Maccombich — 
you, and each of you, stand attainted of high treason. 
What have you to say for yourselves why the court should 
not pronounce judgment against you, that you die ac- 
cording to law 

Fergus, as the presiding judge was putting on the fatal 
cap of judgment, placed his own bonnet upon his head, 
regarded him with a steadfast and stern look, and replied, 
in a firm voice, “ I cannot let this numerous audience 
suppose that to such an appeal I have no answer to make. 
But what I have to say, you would not bear to hear, for 
my defence would be your condemnation. Proceed, 
then, in the name of God, to do what is permitted to you. 
Yesterday, and the day before, you have condemned 
loyal and honourable blood to be poured forth like water 
— Spare not mine. Were that of all my ancestors in 
my veins, I would have peril’d it in this quarrel.” He 
resumed his seat, and refused again to rise. 

Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnest- 
ness, and, rising up, seemed anxious to speak ; but the 
confusion of the court, and the perplexity arising from 
thinking in a language different from that in which he 
was to express himself, kept him silent. There w'as a 
murmur of compassion among the spectators, from the 
idea that the poor fellow intended to plead the influence 
of his superior as an excuse for his crime. The judge 
commanded silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed. 

I was only ganging to say, my lord,” said Evan, in 
what he meant to be an insinuating manner, ‘‘ that if 
your excellent honour, and the honourable court, would 
let Vich Ian Vohr go free just this once, and let him gae 
back to France, and no to trouble King George’s gov- 
ernment again, that ony six o’ the very best of his clan 
will be willing to be justified in his stead ; and if you’ll 
just let me gae down to Glennaquoich, I’ll fetch them 


•214 


AVAVEllLEY. 


up to ye rnysel, to head or hang, and you may begin wr 
me the very first man.” 

Nolwitiistanding the solemnity of the occasion, a sort 
of laugh was heard in the court at the extraordinary na- 
ture of the proposal. The judge checked this indecency, 
and Evan, looking sternly around, when the murmur 
abated, ‘‘ If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing,” he said, 
“ because a poor man, such as me, thinks my life, or the 
life of six of my degree, is worth that of Vich Ian Vohr, 
it’s like enough they may be very right ; but if they 
laugh because they think I would not keep my word, 
and come back to redeem him, I can tell them they ken 
neither the heart of a Hielandman, nor the honour of a 
gentleman.” 

There was no farther inclination to laugh among the 
audience, and a dead silence ensued. 

The judge then pronounced upon both prisoners the 
sentence of the law of high treason, with all its horrible 
accompaniments. The execution was appointed for the 
ensuing day. “ For you, Fergus Mac-Ivor,” continued 
the judge, “ I can hold out no hope of mercy. You 
must prepare against to-morrow for your last sufferings 
here, and your great audit hereafter.” 

“ I desire nothing else, my lord,” answered Fergus, 
in the same manly and firm tone. 

The hard eyes of Evan, which had been perpetually 
bent on his Chief, were moistened with a tear. “ For 
you, poor ignorant man,” continued the judge, “ who, 
following the ideas in which you have been educated, 
have this day given us a striking example how the loy- 
alty due to the king and state alone, is, from your un- 
happy ideas of clanship, transferred to some ambitious 
individual who ends by making you the tool of his crimes 
— for you, I say, I feel so much compassion, that, if you 
can make up your mind to petition for grace, I will en- 
deavour to procure it for you. Otherwise ” 

“ Grace me no grace,” said Evan ; “ since you are 
to shed Vich Ian Vohr’s blood, the only favour I would 
accept from you, is- — to bid them loose my hands and 


WAVERLEy. 


216 


gi’e me my claymore, and bide you just a minute sitting 
where you are.” 

“ Remove the prisoners,” said the judge j “ his blood ‘ 
be upon his own head.” 

Almost stupified with his feelings, Edward found that 
the rush of the crowd had conveyed him out into the 
street, ere he knew what he was doing. His immediate 
wish was to see and speak with Fergus once more. He 
applied at the castle where his unfortunate friend was 
confined, but was refused admittance. “ The High 
Sheriff,” a non-commissioned officer said, “ had request- 
ed of the governor that none should be admitted to see 
the prisoner, excepting his confessor and his sister.” 

“ And where was Miss Mac-lvor They gave him 
the direction. It was the house of a respectable catho- 
lic family near Carlisle. 

Repulsed from the gate of the castle, and not ventur- 
ing to make application to the High Sheriff or Judges in 
his own unpopular name, he had recourse to the solicitor 
who came down in Fergus’s behalf. This gentleman 
told him, that it was thought the public mind was in dan- 
ger of being debauched by the account of the last mo- 
ments of these persons, as given by the friends of the 
Pretender ; that there had been a resolution, therefore, to 
exclude all such persons as had not the plea ol near kin- 
dred for attending upon them. Yet, he promised (to oblige 
the heir of Waverley-Honour) to get him an order for 
admittance to the prisoner the next morning, before his 
irons were knocked off for execution. 

“ Is it of Fergus Mac-lvor they speak thus,” thought 
Waverley, or do I dream ^ Of Fergus, the bold, the 
chivalrous, the free-minded ? The lofty chieftain of a 
tribe devoted to him F Is it he, that I have seen lead the 
chase, and head the attack, — the brave, the active, the 
young, the noble, the love of ladies, and the theme of 
song, — is it he who is ironed like a malefactor ; who is 
to be dragged on a hurdle to the common gallows ; to die 
a lingering and cruel death, and to be mangled by the 
hand of the most outcast of wretches ? Evil indeed, was 


216 


WAVE RLE Y. 


the spectre that boded such a fate as this to the brave 
Chief of Glennaquoicli!” 

With a faltering voice he requested the solicitor tc 
find means to warn Fergus of liis intended visit, should 
he obtain permission, to make it. He then turned away 
from him, and, returning to the inn, wrote a scarcely intel- 
ligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor, intimating his purpose to 
wait upon her that evening. The messenger brought 
back a letter in Flora’s beautiful Italian hand, which 
seemed scarce to tremble even under this load of misery. 
‘‘ Miss Flora Mac-Ivor,” the letter bore, “ could not re- 
fuse to see the dearest friend of her dear brothex, even in 
her present circumstances of unparalleled distress.” 

When Edward reached Miss Mac-Ivor’s present place 
of abode, he was instantly admitted. In a large and 
gloomy tapestried apartment. Flora was seated by a lat- 
ticed window, sewing what seemed to be a garment of 
white flannel. At a little distance sat an elderly woman, 
apparently a foreigner, and of a religious order. She 
was reading in a book of catholic devotion, but when Wa- 
verley entered, laid it on the table and left the room. 
Flora rose to receive him, and stretched out her h3hd, 
but neither ventured to attempt speech. Her fine com- 
plexion was totally gone ; her person considerably ema- 
ciated ; and her face and hands as white as the purest 
statuary marble, forming a strong contrast with her sable 
dress and jet-black hair. Yety amid these marks of 
distress, there was nothing negligent or ill-arranged about 
her attire ; even her hair, though totally without orna- 
ment, was disposed with her usual attenti6n to neatness. 
The first words she uttered were, “ Have you seen him 

“ Alas, no,” answered Waverley, “ 1 have been refus- 
ed admittance.” 

‘‘It accords with the rest,” she said but we must 
submit. Shall you obtain leave, do you suppose 

“For — for — to-morrow;” said Waverley, but mut- 
tering the last word so faintly that it was almost unintel- 
ligible. 


'WAVEKLE Y- 


217 


“ Aye, then or never,” said Flora, “ until” — she ad- 
ded, looking upward, the time when, I trust, we shall 
all meet. But 1 hope you will see him while earth yet 
bears him. He always loved you at his heart, though — 
but it is vain to talk of the past.” 

“Vain indeed !” echoed Waverley. 

“ Or even of the future, my good friend,’ said Flora, 
“ so far as earthly events are concerned ; for how often 
have I pictured to myself the strong possibility of this 
horrid issue, and tasked myself to consider how 1 could 
support my part ; and yet how far has all my anticipation 
fallen short of the unimaginable bitterness of this hour !” 

“ Dear Flora, if your strength of mind” — 

“ Ay, there it is,” she answered somewhat wildly ; 
“ there is, Mr. Waverley, there is a busy devil at my 
heart, that whispers — but it were madness to listen to it 
— that the strength of mind on which Flora prided her- 
self has murdered her brother !” 

“ Good God ! how can you give utterance to a thought 
so shocking .?” 

“ Ay, is it not so ? but yet it haunts me like a phan- 
tom : I know it is unsubstantial and vain ; but it will be 
present ; will intrude its horrors on my mind ; will whis- 
per that my brother, as volatile as ardent, would have 
divided his energies amid a hundred objects. It was I 
who taught him to concentrate them, and to gage all on 
this dreadful and desperate cast. Oh that I could recol- 
lect that 1 had but once said to him, ‘ He that striketh 
with the sword shall die by the sword that I had but 
once said. Remain at home, reserve yourself, your vas- 
sals, your life, for enterprizes within the reach of man. 
But O, Mr. Waverley, 1 spurred his fiery temper, and 
half of his ruin at least lies with his sister !” 

The horrid idea which she had intimated, Edward 
endeavoured to combat by every incoherent argumerji 
that occurred to him. He recalled to her the principles 
on which both thought it their duty to act, and in which 
they had been educated. 

VOL. IJ 


218 


AVAVERLEY. 


“ Do not think I have forgotten them,” she said, look- 
ing up, with eager quickness ; “ I do not regret his at- 
tempt, because it was wrong ! O no ; on that point I am 
armed ; but because it was impossible it could end other- 
wise than thus.” 

“ Yet it did not always seem so desperate and hazard- 
ous as it was ; and it would have been chosen by the 
bold s])irit of Fergus whether you had approved it or no ; 
your counsels only served to give unity and consistence 
to his conduct ; to dignify, but not to precipitate, his 
resolution.” Flora had soon ceased to listen to Edward, 
and was again intent upon her needle-work. 

“ Do you remember,” she said, looking up with a 
ghastly smile, “ you once found me making Fergus’s 
bride-favours, and now I am sewing his bridal-garment. 
Our friends here,” she continued, with suppressed emo- 
tion, “ are to give hallowed earth in their chapel to the 
bloody reliques of the last Vich Ian Vohr. But they will not 
all rest together ; no — his head ! — I shall not have the 
last miserable consolation of kissing the cold lips of my 
dear, dear Fergus !” 

The unfortunate Flora here, after one or two hysteri- 
cal sobs, fainted in her chair. The lady, who had been 
attending in the ante-room, now entered hastily, and beg- 
ged Edward to leave the room, but not the house. 

When he was recalled, after the space of nearly half 
an hour, he found that, by a strong effort. Miss Mac-Ivor 
had greatly composed herself. It was then he ventured 
to urge Miss Bradwardine’s claim, to be considered as an 
adopted sister, and empowered to assist her plans for the 
future. 

‘‘ I have had a letter from my dear Rose,” she repli- 
ed, “ to the same purpose. Sorrow is selfish and en- 
grossing, or I would have written to express, that, even 
in my own despair, I felt a gleam of pleasure at learning 
her happy prospects, and at hearing that the good old 
Baron has escaped the general wreck. Give this to my 
dearest Rose ; it is her poor Flora’s only ornament of 
value, and was the gift of a princess.” She put into his 


>VAVERJ.Ey. 


219 


hands a case, containing the chain of diamonds with 
which she used to decorate her hair. “ To me it is in 
future useless. The kindness of my friends lias secured 
me a retreat in the convent of the Scottish Benedictine 
nuns at Paris. To-morrow — if indeed I can survive to- 
morrow — I set forward dii my journey with this venera- 
ble sister. And now, Mr. Waverley, adieu ! May you 
be as happy with Rose as your amiable dispositions de- 
serve ; and think sometimes on the friends you have lost. 
Do not attempt to see me again ; it would be mistaken 
kindness.” 

She gave him her hand, on which Edward shed a torrent 
of tears, and, with a faltering step, withdrew from the 
apartment, and returned to the town of Carlisle. At 
the inn, he found a letter from his law friend, intimating, 
that he would be admitted to Fergus next morning, as 
soon as the Castle-gates were opened, and permitted to 
remain with him till the arrival of the Sheriff gave signal 
foi the fatal procession. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A darker departure is near, 

The death-drum is muffled, and sable the hieu 

Campbsll 

After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning 
found Waverley on the esplanade in front of the old 
Gothic gate of Carlisle Castle. But he paced it long in 
every direction, before the hour when, according to the 
rules of the garrison, the gates were opened, and the 
drawbridge lowered. He produced his order to the ser- 
jeant of the guard, and was admitted. 


220 


>VAVEItl.EY. 


Tlie place of Fergus’s confinement was a gloomy and 
vaulted apartment in the central part of the castle ; a 
huge old tower, supposed to be of great antiquity, and 
surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII. ’s 
time, or somewhat later. The grating of the large old- 
fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of 
admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains, 
as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily fetter- 
ed, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling 
himself into his friend’s arms. 

“ My dear Edward,” he said, in a firm and even 
cheerful voice, “ this is truly kind. I heard of your 
approaching iiappiness with the highest pleasure : and 
how does Rose ? and how is our old whimsical friend 
the Baron ? Well, I trust, since I see you at freedom — 
and how will you settle precedence between the three er- 
mines passant and the bear and boot-jack ?” 

** How, O how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such 
things at such a moment !” 

“ Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspi- 
ces, to be sure — on the 16 th of November last, for ex- 
ample, when we marched in, side by side, and hoisted 
the white flag on these ancient towers. But I am no 
boy, to sit down and weep, because the luck has gone 
against me. I knew the stake which I risked ; we play- 
ed the game boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid manful- 
ly. And now, since my time is short, let me come to 
the questions that interest me most — the Prince ^ has he 
escaped the bloodhounds 

“ He has, and is in safety.” 

Praised be God for that ! Tell me the particulars 
of his escape.” 

Waverley communicated that remarkable history, so 
far as it had then transpired, to which Fergus listened 
with deep interest. He then asked after several other 
friends ; and made many minute inquiries concerning 
the fate of his own clansmen. They had suffered less 
ban other tribes who had been engaged in the affair ; 
having, in a great measure, dispersed and returned 


w.v V V. 


221 


home nher the captivity of their Chieftain, according to the 
uni\ ersal custom of the Highlanders, they were not in 
arms when the Insurrection jvas finally suppressed, and 
consequently were treated with less rigour. This Fergus 
heard with great satisfaction. 

“You are rich,” he said, “ Waverley, and you are 
geiierous. When you hear of these poor Mac-Ivors being 
distressed about their miserable possessions by some 
harsh overseer or agent of government, remember you 
have worn their tartan, and are an adopted son of their 
race. The Baron, who knows our manners, and lives 
near our country, will apprize you of the time and means 
to be their protector. Will you promise this to the last 
Vich Ian Vohr 

Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word ; 
which he afterwards so amply redeemed, that his me- 
mory still lives in these glens by the name of the Friend 
of the Sons of Ivor.” 

“Would to God,” continued the Chieftain, “ I could 
bequeath to you my rights to the love and obedience of 
this primitive and brave race : — or at least, as I have 
striven to do, persuade poor Evan to accept of his life 
upon their terms ; and be to you, what he has been to me, 
the kindest, — the bravest, the most devoted ” 

The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fed 
fast for that of his foster-brother. 

“But,” said he, drying them, “ that cannot be. You 
cannot be to them Vich Ian Vohr ; and these three magic 
words,” said he, half smiling, “ are the only Oj^en <Se- 
same to their feelings and sympathies, and poor Evan 
must attend his foster-brother in death, as he has done 
through his whole life.” 

“ And I am sure,” said Maccombich, raising himself 
from the floor, on which, for fear of interrupting their 
conversation, he had lain so still, that, in the obscurity of 
the apartment, Edward was not aware of his presence, 
— “ I am sure Evan never desired nor deserved a better 
end than just to die with his Chieftain.’ 

V L. II. 


222 


WAVEHLEY. 


“ And now,” said Fergus, “while we are upoi. the 
subject of clanship — what think you now of the predic- 
tion of the BodacliGlas?” — then before Edward could 
answer, “ 1 saw him again last night — he stood in the slip 
of moonshine, which fell from that high and narrow win- 
dow, towards my bed. Why should I fear him, I thought 
— to-morrow, long ere this time, T shall be as immaterial 
as he. ‘False Spirit,’ 1 said, ‘art thou come to close 
thy walks on earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall 
of the last descendant of thine enemy !’ The spectre 
seemed to beckon and to smile, as he faded from my 
sight. What do you think of it ? — 1 asked the same 
question of the priest, who is a good and sensible man ; 
he admitted that the church allowed that such apparitions 
were possible, but urged me not to permit my mind to 
dwell upon it, as imagination plays us such strange tricks. 
W*hat do you think of it 

“Much as your confessor,” said Waverley, willing to 
avoid dispute upon such a point at such a moment. A 
tap at the door now announced that good man, and Ed- 
ward retired while he administered to both prisoners the 
last rites of religion, in the mode which the church of 
Rome prescribes. 

In about an hour he was re-admitted ; soon after a file 
of soldiers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the 
fetters from the legs of the prisoners. 

“ You see the compliment they pay to our Highland 
strength and courage — we have lain chained here like 
wild beasts, till our legs are cramped into palsy, and 
when they free us, they send six soldiers with loaded 
muskets to prevent our taking the castle by storm.” 

Edward afterwards learned that these severe precau- 
tions had been taken in consequence of a desperate at- 
tempt of the prisoners to escape, in which they had very 
nearly succeeded. 

Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to 
arms. “ This is the last turn-out,” said Fergus, “ that I 
shall hear and obey. And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere 


WAVERLEY. 


223 


rv’e port let us speak of Flora — a subject which awakes 
the tenderest feeling that yet thrills within me.” 

“ We part not here !” said Waverley. 

“ O yes, we do, you must come no farther. Not that 
I fear what is to follow for myself,” he said proudly : 
“ Nature has her tortures as w^ell as art, and how happy 
should we think the man who escapes from the throes ot 
a mortal and painful disorder, in the space of a short 
half hour ^ And this matter, spin it out as they will, 
cannot last longer. But what a dying man can suffer 
firmly, may kill a living friend to look upon. — This same 
law of high treason,” he continued, with astonishing 
firmness and composure, “ is one of the blessings, Ed- 
ward, with which your free country has accommodated 
poor old Scotland — her own jurisprudence, as I have 
heard, w'as much milder. But I suppose one day or oth- 
er — when there are no longer any wild Highlanders to 
benefit by its tender mercies — they wall blot it from their 
records, as levelling them with a nation of cannibals. 
The mummery, too, of exposing the senseless head — 
they have not the wit to grace mine with a paper coro- 
net ; there would be some satire in that, Edw'ard. I 
hope they will set it on the Scotch gate though, that I 
may look, even after death, to the blue hills of my own 
country, which I love so dearly. The Baron would have 
added, 

“ Moritur, et moriens dulces reminiscitur Argos ” 

A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses’ feet, 
was now heard in the court-yard of the Castle. “ As 1 
have told you w’hy you must not follow me, and these 
sounds admonish me that my time flies fast, tell me how 
you found poor Flora 

Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sen- 
sations, gave some account of the state of her mind. 

“ Poor Flora !” answered the Chief, “ she could have 
borne her own sentence of death, but not mine. Y on, Wa- 
verley, will soon know the happiness of mutual aflection In 
ilie married stale— long, long may Rose and you enjoy it !— 


224 


WAVERLEY. 


but you can never know the purity of feeling which 
combines two orphans, like Flora and me, left alone as it 
were in the world, and being all in all to each other 
from our very infancy. But her strong sense of duty, 
and predominant feeling of loyalty, will give new nerve 
to her mind after the immediate and acute sensation ot 
this parting has passed away. She will then think oi 
Fergus as of the heroes of our race, upon whose deeds 
she loved to dwell. 

“ Shall she not see you then ?” asketl Waverley. 
“ She seemed to expect it.” 

‘‘ A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful 
parting. I could not part with her without tears, and I 
cannot bear that these men should think they have pow- 
er to extort them. She was made to believe she w^ould 
see me at a later hour, and this letter, which my confes- 
sor will deliver, will apprize her that all is over.” 

An officer now appeared, and intimated that the High 
Sheriff and his attendants waited before the gate of the 
Castle, to claim the bodies of Fergus Mac-Ivor and Evan 
Maccombich : “I come,” said Fergus. Accordingly, 
supporting Edward by the arm, and followed by Evan 
Dhu and the priest, he moved down the stairs of the 
tower, the soldiers bringing up the rear. The court 
was occupied by a squadron of dragoons and a battalion 
of infantry, drawn up in hollow square. Within their 
ranks was the sledge, or hurdle, on which the prisoners 
were to be drawm to the place of execution, about a mile 
distant from Carlisle. It was painted black, and drawn 
by a white horse. At one end of the vehicle sat the 
Executioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his 
trade, with the broad axe in his hand ; at the other end, 
next the horse, was an empty seat for two persons. 
Through the deep and dark Gothic arch-way that open- 
ed on the drawbridge, were seen on horseback the High 
Sheriff and his attendants, whom the etiquette betwixt 
the civil and military powers did not permit to come far- 
ther. “ This is well got up for a closing scene, ’ said 
Fergus, smiling disdainfully as he gazed around upon 


WAVERLET. 


225 


rhe apparatus of terror. Evan Dhu exclaimed with 
some eagerness, after looking at the dragoons, “ These 
are the very chields that galloped off at Gladsmuir, be- 
fore we could kill a dozen o’ them. They look bold 
enough now, however.” The priest entreated him to be 
silent. 

The sledge now approached, and Fergus turning 
round embraced Waverley, kissed him on each side of 
the face, and stepped nimbly into his place. Evan sat 
down by his side. The priest was to follow in a carriage 
belonging to his patron, the catholic gentleman at wl\pse 
house Flora resided. As Fergus waved his hand to 
Edward, the ranks closed around the sledge, and the 
whole procession began to move forward. There was a 
momentary stop at the gateway, wdiile the governor of the 
castle and the High Sheriff went through a short cere- 
mony, the military officer there delivering over the per- 
sons of the criminals to the civil power. “ God save 
King George !” said the High Sheriff. When the for- 
mality concluded, Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and, 
with a firm and steady voice, replied, “ God save King 
James /” These were the last words which Waverley 
heard him speak. 

The procession resumed its march, and the sledge van- 
ished from beneath the portal, under which it had stopped 
for an instant. The dead-march was then heard, and 
its ‘melancholy sounds were mingled with those of a muf- 
fled peal, tolled from the neighbouring cathedral. The 
sound of the military music died away as the procession 
moved on ; the sullen clang of the bells was soon heard 
to sound alone. 

The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from un- 
der the vaulted arch-way through which they had been 
filing for several minutes ; the court-yard was now totally 
empty, but Waverley still stood there as if stupified, his 
eyes fixed upon the dark pass where he had so lately 
seen the last glimpse of his friend. At length, a female 
servant of the governor, struck with compassion at the 
stupified misery which his countenance expressed, asked 


226 


WAVERLET. 


him, if he would not walk into her master’s house and 
sit down ? She was obliged to repeat her question twice 
ere he comprehended her, but at length it recalled him 
to himself. Declining the courtesy, by a hasty gesture, 
he pulled his hat over his eyes, and, leaving the castle, 
walked as swiftly as he could through the empty streets, 
till he regained his inn, then rushed into an apart- 
ment, and bolted the door. 

In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of 
unutterable suspense, the sound of the drums and fifes, 
performing a lively air, and the confused murmur of the 
crowd which now filled the streets, so lately deserted, 
apprized him that all w'as finished, and that the military 
and populace were returning from the dreadful scene. 
I will not attempt to describe his sensations. 

In the evening the priest made him a visit, and inform- 
ed him that he did so by directions of his deceased 
friend, to assure him that Fergus Mac-Ivor had died as 
he lived, and remembered his friendship to the last. He 
added, he had also seen Flora, whose state of mind 
seemed more composed since all was over. With her, 
and Sister Theresa, the priest proposed next day to leave 
Carlisle, for the nearest sea-port from which they could 
embark for France. Waverley forced on this good man 
a ring of some value, and a sum of money to be employ- 
ed (as he thought might gratify Flora) in the services of 
the Catholic church, for the memory of his friend. 
“ Fungarque inani munere,^^ he repeated as the eccle- 
siastic retired. “ Yet why not class these acts of re- 
membrance with other honours, with which affection, in 
all sects, pursues the memory of the dead 

The next morning ere day-light he took leave of the 
town of Carlisle, promising to himself never again to enter 
its walls. He dared hardly look back towards the Go- 
thic battlements of the fortified gate under which he 
passed, for the place is surrounded with an old wall. 

‘ They’re no there,” said Alick Polwarth, who guessed 
the cause of the dubious look which Waverley cast back- 
ward, and who, with the vulgar appetite for the horrible, 


wavkhley. 


227 


was master of each detail of the butchery, The heads 
are ower the Scotch yett, as they ca’ it. It’s a great pity 
of Evan Dhu, who was a very weel-meaning good-natur- 
ed man, to be a Hielandrnan ; and indeed so was the 
Laird o’ Glennaquoich too, for that matter, when he 
wasna in ane o’ his tirrivies.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Dulce Domum. 

The impression of horror with which Waverley left 
Carlisle, softened by degrees into melancholy, a grada- 
tion which was accelerated by the painful, yet soothing, 
task of writing to Rose ; and, while he could not suppress 
his own feelings of the calamity, he endeavoured to 
place it in a light which might grieve her, without shock- 
ing her imagination. The picture which he drew for her 
benefit he gradually familiarized to his own mind, and 
his next letters were more cheerful, and referred to the 
prospects of peace and happiness which lay before them. 
Yet, though his first horrible sensations had sunk into 
melancholy, Edward had reached his native country be- 
fore he could, as usual on former occasions, look 
found for enjoyment upon the face of nature. 

He then, for the first time since leaving Edinburgh, 
began to experience that pleasure which almost all feel 
who return to a verdant, populous, and highly-cultivated 
country, from scenes of waste desolation, or of sol- 
itary and melancholy grandeur. But how were those 
feelings enhanced when he entered on the domain sc 
long possessed by his forefathers ; recognized the old 
oaks of Waverley-Chace ; thought with what delight he 
should introduce Rose to all his favourite haunts ; be- 
held at length the towers of the venerable hall arise 


228 


WAVRULKT. 


above the woods which embowered it, and finally threw 
himself into the arms of the venerable relations to whom 
he owed so much duty and affection ! 

The happiness of their meeting was not tarnished by 
a single word of reproach. On the contrary, whatever 
pain Sir Everard and Mrs. Rachel had felt during VVa- 
verley’s perilous engagement with the young Chevalier, 
it assorted too well with the principles in which they had 
been brought up, to incur reprobation, or even censure. 
Colonel Talbot also had smoothed the way, with great 
address, for Edward’s favourable reception, by dwelling 
upon his gallantbehaviour in the military character, par- 
ticularly his bravery and generosity at Preston ; until, 
warmed at the idea of their nephew’s engaging in single 
combat, making prisoner, and saving from slaughter, so 
distinguished an officer as the Colonel himself, the imag- 
ination of the Baronet and his sister ranked the exploits 
of Edward with those of Wilibert, Hildebrand, and Nigel, 
the vaunted heroes of their line. 

The appearance of Waverley, embrowned by exercise, 
and dignified by the habits of military discipline, had ac- 
quired an athletic and hardy character, which not only 
verified the Colonel’s narration, but surprised and de- 
lighted all the inhabitants of Waverley-Honour. They 
crowded to see, to hear him, and to sing his praises. 
Mr. Pembroke, who secretly extolled his spirit and 
courage in embracing the genuine cause of the Church 
of England, censured his pupil gently, nevertheless, for 
being so careless of his manuscripts, which indeed, he 
said, had occasioned him some personal inconvenience, 
as, upon the Baronet’s being arrested by a king’s mes- 
senger, he had deemed it prudent to retire to a conceal- 
ment called “ The Priest’s Hole,” from the use it had 
been put to in former days ; where, he assured our hero 
the butler had thought it safe to venture w\ih food only 
once in the day, so that he had been repeatedly compel- 
led to dine upon victuals either absolutely cold, or, what 
was Worse, only half warm, not to mention that some- 
times his bed had not been arranged for two days to- 


WAVERLEYv 


'229 


gether. Waverley’s mind involuntarily turned to the 
Patmos ot* tlie Baron of Bradwardine, who was well 
pleased with Janet’s fare, and a few bunches of straw 
stowed in a cleft in the front of a sand-clifF ; but he made 
no remarks upon a contrast which could only mortify his 
worthy tutor. 

All was now in a bustle to prepare for the nuptials of 
Edward, an event to which the good old Baronet and 
Mrs. Rachel looked forward' as if to the renewal of 
their own youth. The match, as Colonel Talbot had 
intimated, had seemed to them in the highest degree eli- 
gible, having every recommendation but wealth, of which 
they themselves had more than enough. Mr. Ciippurse 
was, therefore, summoned to Waverley-Honour, under 
better auspices than at the commencement of our story. 
But Mr. Clippurse came not alone, for being now strick- 
en in years, he had associated with him a nephew, a 
younger vulture, (as our English Juvenal, who tells the 
tale of Sw^allow the attorney, might have called him,) 
and they now" carried on business as Messrs. Clippurse 
and Hookem. These worthy gentlemen had directions 
to make the necessary settlements on the most splendid 
scale of liberality, as if Edward were to wed a peeress 
m her own right, with her paternal estate tacked to the 
fringe of her ermine. 

But, before entering upon a subject of proverbial delay 
I must remind my reader of the progress of a stone rol- 
led down hill by an idle truant boy (a pastime at which 
I was myself expert in my more juvenile years :) it 
moves at first slowly, avoiding, by inflection, every ob- 
stacle of the least importance ; but when it has attained 
its full impulse, and draws near the conclusion of its ca- 
reer, it smokes and thunders down, taking a rood at every 
spring, clearing hedge and ditch like a Yorkshire hunts- 
man, and becoming most furiously rapid in its course 
when it is nearest to being consigned to rest for ever. 
Even such is the course of a narrative, like that which 
you are perusing. The earlier events are studiously dwelt 
24 VOL. n 


230 


WAVE RLE Y. 


upon, that you, kind reader, may be introduced to the 
character rather by narrative, than by the duller medium 
of direct description : but when the story draws near its 
close, we hurry over the circumstances, however impor- 
tant, which your imagination must have forestalled, and 
leave you to suppose those things, which it would be 
abusing your patience to relate at length. 

We are, therefore, so far from attempting to trace the 
dull progress of Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem, or that 
of their worthy official brethren, who had the charge of 
suing out the pardons of Edward Waverley and his in- 
tended father-in-law, that we can but touch upon mat- 
ters more attractive. The mutual epistles, for example, 
which were exchanged between Sir Everard and the 
Baron upon this occasion, though matchless specimens 
of eloquence in their way, must be consigned to merci- 
less oblivion. Nor can 1 tell you at length, how worthy 
Aunt Rachel, not without a delicate and affectionate al- 
lusion to the circumstances which had transferred Rose’s 
maternal diamonds to the hands of Donald Bean Lean, 
stocked her casket with a set of jewels that a duchess 
might have envied. Moreover, the reader will have the 
goodness to imagine that Job Houghton and his dame 
were suitably provided for, although they could never be 
persuaded that their son fell otherwise than fighting by 
the young squire’s side ; so that Alick, who, as a lover 
of truth, had made many needless attempts to expound 
the real circumstances to them, was finally ordered to 
say not a word more upon the subject. He indemnified 
himself, however, by the liberal allowance of desperate 
battles, grisly executions, and raw-head and bloody-bone 
stories, with which he astonished the servant’s-hall. 

But, although these important matters may be briefly 
told in narrative, like a newspaper report of a chancery 
suit, yet, with all the urgency which Waverley could use, 
the real time, which the law proceedings occupied, join- 
ed to the delay occasioned by the mode of travelling at 
that period, rendered it considerably more than two 
months ere Waverley, having left England alighted once 


WAVERLET. 


2S, 


more at the mansion of the Laird of Duchran to claim 
the hand of his plighted bride. 

The day of his marriage was fixed for the sixth after 
his arrival. The Baron of Bradwardine, with whom 
bridals, christenings, and funerals, were festivals of high 
and solemn import, felt a little hurt, that including the 
family of the Duchran, and all the immediate vicinity 
who had title to be present on such an occasion, there 
could not be above thirty persons collected. 

When he was married,” he observed, “ three hun- 
dred horse of gentlemen born, besides servants, and 
some score or two of Highland lairds, who never got on 
horseback, w’ere present on the occasion.” 

But his pride found some consolation in reflecting, that 
he and his son-in-law having been so lately in arms against 
government, it might give matter of reasonable fear and 
offence to the ruling powers, if they were to collect to- 
gether the kith, kin and allies of their houses, arrayed in 
efteir of war, as was the ancient custom of Scotland on 
these occasions — “ And, without dubitation,” he con- 
cluded with a sigh, “ many of those who would have re- 
joiced most freely upon these joyful espousals, are ei- 
ther gone to a better place, or are now exiles from their 
native land.” 

The marriage took place on the appointed day. The 
Reverend Mr. Rubrick, kinsman to the proprietor of the 
hospitable mansion where it was solemnized, and chap- 
lain to the Baron of Bradwardine, had the satisfaction 
to unite their hands ; and Frank Stanley acted as brides- 
man, having joined Edward with that view soon after his 
arrival. Lady Emily and Colonel Talbot had proposed 
being present, but Lady Emily’s health, when the day 
approached, was found inadequate to the journey, la 
amends, it was arranged that Edward Waverley and his 
lady, who, with the Baron, proposed an immediate jour- 
ney to Waverley-Honour, should, in their way, spend a few 
days at an estate which Colonel Talbot had been tempt- 
ed to purchase in Scotland as a very great bargain, and 
at which he proposed to reside for some lime. 


232 


WAVEKLET* 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

“ T/its is no mine ain house, I ken by the bigging oV.’ 

Old Sokg. 

The nuptial party travelled in great style. There 
was a coach and six after the newest pattern, which Sir 
Everard had presented to his nephew, that dazzled with 
its splendour the eyes of one half cf Scotland ; there 
was the family coach of Mr. Rubrick ; — both these were 
crowded with ladies ; and there were gentlemen on horse- 
back, with their servants, to the number of a round score. 
Nevertheless, without having the fear of famine before 
his eyes, Baillie Macwheeble met them in the road, to 
entreat that they would pass by his house at Little Veo- 
lan. The Baron stared, and said his son and he would 
certainly ride by Little Veolan, and pay their compli- 
ments to the Baillie, but could not think of bringing with 
them the “ hail comitatus nuptialis, or matrimonial pro- 
cession.” He added, that, as he understood that the 
Barony had been sold by its unworthy possessor, he was 
glad to see his old friend Duncan had regained his situ- 
ation under the new Dominus, or proprietor.” The 
Baillie ducked, bowed, and fidgetted, and then again in- 
sisted upon his invitation ; until the Baron, though rather 
piqued at the pertinacity of his instances, could not nev- 
ertheless refuse to consent, without making evident sen- 
sations which he was anxious to conceal. 

He fell into a deep study as they approached the top 
of the avenue, and was only startled from it by observ- 
ing that the battlements were replaced, the ruins cleared 
away, and (most wonderful of all) that the two great 
stone Bears, those mutilated Dagons of his idolatry, had 
resumed their posts over the gateway. “ Now this new 
proprietor,” said he to Edward, “ has shown mair 


WAVERLEY. 


233 


as the Italians call it, in the short time he has had this 
domain, than that hound Malcolm, though I bred him 
here mysel, has acquired vita adhuc durante , — And now 
I talk of hounds, is not yon Ban and Buscar, who come 
scouping up the avenue with David Gellatley ?” 

“ I vote we should go to meet them, sir,” said Waver- 
ley, “ for I believe the present master of the house is 
Colonel Talbot, who will expect to see us. We hesitated 
to mention to you at first that he had purchased your an- 
cient patrimonial property, and even “yet, if you do not 
incline to visit him, we can pass on to the Baillie’s.” 

The Baron had occasion for all his magnanimity 
However, he drew a long breath, took a long snuff, and 
observed, since they had brought him so far, he could 
not pass the Colonel’s gate, and he would be happy to 
see the new master of his old tenants. He alighted ac- 
cordingly, as did the other gentlemen and ladies j — he 
gave his arm to his daughter, and as they descended the 
avenue, pointed out to her how speedily the “ Diva 
Pecunia of the Southron — their tutelary deity, he might 
call her — had removed the marks of spoliation.” 

In truth, not only had the felled trees been removed, 
but their stumps being grubbed up, and the earth round 
them levelled and sown with grass, every mark of de- 
vastation, unless to an eye intimately acquainted with the 
spot, was already totally obliterated. There was a sim- 
ilar reformation in the outward man of Davie Gellatley, 
who met them, every now and then stopping to admire 
the new suit which graced his person, in the same colours 
as formerly, but bedizened fine enough to have served 
Touchstone himself. He danced up with his usual ungain- 
ly frolics, first to the Baron, and then to Rose, passing his 
hands over his clothes, crying, “ Rra’, bra^ Davie , and 
scarce able to sing a bar to an end of his thousand-and-one 
songs, for the breathless extravagance ofhis joy. The dogs 
also acknowledged their old master with a thousand 
gambols. “ Upon my conscience. Rose,” ' ejaculated 
the Baron, “ the gratitude o’ thae dumb brutes, and 

VOL. II. 


231 


WAVERLEY. 


of that puir innocent, brings the tears into my aiild een, 
while that schellnm Malcolm — but I’m obliged to Colo- 
nel Talbot for putting my hounds into such good condition, 
and likewise for puir Davie. But, Rose, my dear, we 
must not permit them to be a life-rent burden upon the 
estate.” 

As he spoke. Lady Emily, leaning upon the arm of her 
husband, met the party at the lower gate, with a thous- 
and welcomes. After the ceremony of introduction had 
been gone through,** much abridged by the ease and ex- 
cellent breeding of Lady Emily, she apologized for hav- 
ing used a little art to wile them back to a place which 
might awaken some painful reflections — “ But as it was 
to change masters, we were very desirous that the 
Baron” 

“ ]\Ir. Bradwardine, madam, if you please,” said the 
old gentleman. 

“ Mr. Bradwardine, then, and Mr. Waverley, should 
see what we have done towards restoring the mansion 
of your fathers to its former state.” 

The Baron answered with a low bow. Indeed, when 
he entered the court, -excepting that the heavy stables, 
which had been burnt down, were replaced by buildings 
of a lighter and more picturesque appearance, all seem- 
ed as much as possible restored to the state in which he 
had left it, when he assumed arms some months before. 
The pigeon-house was replenished ; the fountain played 
with its usual activity, and not only the Bear who pre- 
dominated over its basin, but all the other Bears what- 
soever, were replaced on their several stations, and renewed 

repaired with so much care, that they bore no tokens 
of the violence which had so lately descended upon them. 
While these minutiae had been so heedfully attended to 
it is scarce necessary to add, that the house itself had 
been thoroughly repaired, as well as the gardens, with 
the strictest^ attention to maintain the original character 
of both, and to remove, as far as possible, all appearance 
of the ravage they had sustained. The Baron gazed in 
silent wonder ; at length he addressed Colonel Talbot 


WAVERLEY. 


235 


“ While 1 acknowledge iny obligation to you, sir, for 
the restoration of the badge of our family, 1 cannot but 
marvel that you have no where established your own 
crest, whilk is, I believe, a inastifF, anciently called a 
talbot 5 as the poet has it, 

* A lalbot strong — a sturdy tyke/ 

“ At least such a dog is the crest of the martial and 
renowned Earls of Shrewsbury, to whom your family are 
probably blood relations.” 

“ I believe,” said the Colonel, smiling, “ our dogs are 
whelps of the same litter — for my part, if crests were to 
dispute precedence, I shoidd be apt to let them, as the 
proverb says, ‘ fight dog, fight bear.’ ” 

As he made this speech, at which the Baron took 
another long pinch of snufi', they had entered the house, 
that is, the Baron, Rose, and Lady Emily, with young 
Stanley and the Baillie, for Edward and the rest of the 
party remained on the teia-ace, to examine a new green- 
house stocked with the finest plants. The Baron resum- 
ed his favourite topic : “ However it may please 5’’ou to 
derogate from the honour of your burgonet. Colonel 
Talbot, which is doubtless your humour, as I have seen 
in other gentlemen of birth and honour in your country, 
I must again repeat it as a most ancient and distinguish- 
ed bearing, as well as that of my young friend Francis 
Staidey, which is the eagle and child.” 

“ The bird and bantling they call it in Derbyshire, 
sir,” said Stanley. 

“ Ye’re a daft callant, sir said tlie Baron, who had 
a great liking to this young man, perhaps because he 
sometimes teazed him — “ Ye’re a daft callant, and I 
must correct you some of these days,” shaking his great 
brown fist at him. “ But what 1 mearU to say. Colonel 
Talbot, is, that yours is an ancient prosapid, or descent, 
and since you have lawfully and justly acquired the es- 
tate for vou and yours, which 1 have lost for me and 
mine ; 1 wish it may remain in your name as many cen- 
turies as it has done in that of the late proprietors.’’ 


236 


WAVERLEY. 


“ That,” answered the Colonel, “ is very handsome, 
J\'lr. Bradvvardine, indeed.” 

“ And yet, sir, I cannot but marvel that yon. Colonel, 
whom J noted to have so much of the amor j) at rue, when 
we met in Edinburgh, as even to vilipend other countries, 
should have chosen to establish your Lares, or household 
gods, procul a patrice finibus, and in a manner to expa- 
triate yourself.” 

“ Why really, Baron, I do not see why, to keep the 
secret of these foolish boys, Waverley and Stanley, and 
of my wife, who is no wiser, one old soldier should con- 
tinue to impose upon another. You must know then that 
I have so much of that same prejudice in favour of my 
native country, that the sum of money which I advanced 
to the seller of this extensive barony, has only purchased 
for me a box in — — shire, called Brerevvood Lodge, 
with about two hundred and fifty acres of land, the chief 
merit of which is, that it is within a very few miles of 
Waverley-Honour.” 

“ And who then, in the name of Heaven, has bought 
this property .^” 

“ That,” said the Colonel, “ it is this gentleman’s pro- 
fession to explain.” 

The Bailiie, whom this reference regarded, and who had 
all this while shifted from one foot to another wdth great im- 
patience, “ like a hen,” as he afterwards said, “ upon a het 
girdle and chuckling, he might have added, like the 
said hen in all the glory of laying an egg, — now pushed 
forward. “ That I can, that 1 can, your honour ;” draw- 
ing from his pocket a budget of papers, and untying the 
red tape with a hand trembling with eagerness. “ Here 
is the disposition and assignation by Malcolm Bradwar- 
dine of Inch-Grabbit, regularly signed and tested in 
terms of the statute, whereby for a certain sum of ster- 
ling money presently contented and paid to him, he has 
disponed, alienated, and conveyed the whole estate and 
barony of Bradvvardine, Tully-Veolan, and others, with 
the fortalicG and manor-place” 

“ For God’s sake, to the point, sir ; I have all' that by 
heart,” said the Colonel. 


'NVAVERLEY. 


237 


“ To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq.- pursued 
Ihe Baillie, “ his heirs and assignees, simply and irre- 
deemably — to be held either a me vel de me” 

“ Pray read short, sir.” 

“ On the conscience of an honest man. Colonel, I 
read as short as is consistent with style. — Under the bur- 
den and reservation always” 

“ Mr. Macwheeble, this would outlast a Russian win- 
ter — give me leave. In short, Mr. Bradwardine, your 
family estate is your own once more in full property, and 
at your absolute disposal, but only burdened with the 
sum advanced to re-purchase it, which I understand is 
utterly disproportioned to its value.” 

“ An auld sang — an auld sang, if it please your hon- 
ours,” cried the Baillie, rubbing his hands, “ look at the 
rental book.” 

“ Which sum being advanced by Mr. Edward Waver- 
ley, chiefly from the price of his father’s property which 
1 bought from«him, is secured to his lady your daughter, 
and her family by this marriage.” 

“ It is a catholic security,” shouted the Baillie, “ to 
Rose Comyne Bradwardine, alias Wauverley, in life- 
rent, and the children of the said marriage in fee ; and 1 
made up a wee bit minute of an antenuptial contract, 
intuitu mati'inionij, so it cannot be subject to reduction 
hereafter, as a doriation inter virum et uxorem” 

It is diflicult to say whether the worthy Baron was most 
delighted with the restitution of his family property, or 
with the delicacy and generosity that left him unfettered 
to pursue his purpose in disposing of it after his death, 
and which avoided, as much as possible, even the appear- 
ance of laying him under pecuniary obligation. When 
his first pause of joy and astonishment wa's over, liii 
thoughts turned to the unworthy heir-male, who, he 
pronounced, had sold his birth-right like Esau, for a mess 
o’ pottage. 

“ But wha cookit the parritch for him exclaimed 
the Baillie, “ I wad like to ken that ; — wha. but your 
honour’s to command, Duncan Macwheeble.^ His hon- 


238 


WAVERLBY. 


Dur, young Mr. Wauverley, put it a’ into my hand frae 
the beginning — iVae the first calling o’ the summons, as 
I may say. I circumvented them — 1 played at bogle 
about the bush wi’ them — I cajolled them ; and it 1 
havena gien Inch-Grabbit and Jamie Howie a bojinie 
begunk, they ken themselves Him a writer ! 1 didna 
gae slapdash to them wi’ our young bra’ bridegroom, to 
gar them baud up the market : na, na ; 1 scared them 
wi’ our wild tenantry, and the Mac-lvors, that are but ill 
settled yet, till they durst na on ony errand whatsoever 
gang ower the door-stane after gloaming, for fear John 
Healherblutter, or some siccan dare-the-de’il, should tak 
a baff at them : then, on 'the other hand, I beflumm’d 
them wi’ Colonel Talbot — wad they offer to keep up the 
price again the Duke’s friend ? did they na ken wha was 
master ^ had they na seen eneugh by the sad example 

of mony a puir misguided unhappy body” 

Who went to Derby, for example, Mr. Macwhee- 
ble said the Colonel to him, aside. 

“ O whisht. Colonel, for the love o’ God ! let that flee 
stick i’ the vva’. — There were mony good folk at Derby ; 
and it’s ill speaking of halters,” — with a sly cast of his 
eye toward the Baron, who was in a deep reverie. 

Starting out of it at once, he took Macwheeble by the 
button, and led him into one of the deep window reces- 
ses, whence only fragments of their conversation reached 
the rest of the party. It certainly related to stamp-paper 
and parchment ; for no other subject, even from the 
mouth of his patron, and he, once more an efficient one, 
could have arrested so deeply the Baillie’s reverent and 
absorbed attention. 

“ I understand your honour perfectly ; it can be dune 
as easy as taking out a decreet in absence.” 

“ To her and him, after my demise, and to their heirs- 
male, — but preferring the second son, if God shall bless 
them with two, who is to carry the name and arms of 
Bradwardine of that ilk, without any other name or ar- 
morial bearings whatsoever.” 


W'A VKKLF.Y. 


239 


‘‘ Tut, your honour !” whispered the Baillie, “ I’ll make 
a slight jotting the morn ; it will cost but a charter ol 
resignation irifavorcm ; and I’ll hae it ready for the next 
term in Exchequer.” 

Their private conversation ended, the Baron was now 
summoned to do the honours of Tully-Veolan to new 
guests. These were. Major Melville of Cairn vreckan, 
and the Reverend Mr. Morton, followed by two or three 
others of the Baron’s acquaintances, who had been made 
privy to his having again acquired the estate of his fathers 
The shouts of the villagers were also heard beneath in 
the court-yard ; for Saunders Saunderson, who had kept 
the secret for several days with laudable prudence, had 
unloosed his tongue upon beholding the arrival of the 
carriages. 

But, while Edward received Major Melville with polite- 
ness, and the clergyman with the most affectionate and 
grateful kindness, his father-in-law looked a little awk- 
ward, as uncertain how he should answer the necessary 
claims of hospitality to his guests, and forward the festiv- 
ity of his tenants. Lady Emily relieved him, by intimat- 
ing, that, though she must be an indifferent representative 
of Mrs. Edward Waverley in many respects, she hoped 
the Baron would approve of the entertainment she had 
ordered, in expectation of so many guests ; and that 
they would find such other acommodations provided, as 
might in some degree support the ancient hospitality of 
Tully-Veolan. It is impossible to describe the pleasure 
which this assurance gave the Baron, who, with* an air 
of gallantry, half appertaining to the stiff Scottish laird, 
and half to the officer in the French service, offered his 
arm to the fair speaker, and led the way, in something 
between a stride and a minuet step, into the large dining 
parlour, followed by all the rest of the good company. 

By dint of Saunderson’s directions and^exertions, all 
here, as well as in the other apartments, had been dispos- 
ed as much as possible according to the old arrangement ; 
and where new movables had been necessary, they had 
been selected in the same character with the old furni- 
ture. There was one addition to this fine old apartment, 


240 


M AVERLEY. 


however, which drew tears into the Baron’s eyes. It 
was a large and spirited painting, representing Fergus 
Mac-Ivor and VVaverley in their Highland dress, the 
scene a wild, rocky, and mountainous pass, down which 
the clan were descending in the back-ground. It was 
taken from a spirited sketch, drawn while they were in 
Edinburgh by a young man of high genius, and had been 
painted on a full-length scale by an eminent London 
artist. Raeburn himself, (whose Highland Chiefs do all 
but walk out of the canvas) could not have done more 
justice to the subject ; and the ardent, fiery, and impet- 
uous character of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoicb 
was finely contrasted with the contemplative, fanciful, and 
enthusiastic expression of his happier friend. Beside 
this painting hung the arms which VVaverley had borne 
in the unfortunate civil war. The whole piece was be- 
held with adimration, and deeper feelings. 

Men must however eat, in spite both of sentiment and 
vertu ; and the Baron, while he assumed the lower end 
of the table, insisted that Lady Emily should do the 
honours of the head, that they might, he said, set a meet 
example to the young folk. After a pause of deliberation, 
employed in adjusting in his own brain the precedence 
between the presbyterian kirk and episcopal church of 
Scotland, he requested Mr. Morton, as the stranger, would 
crave a blessing, observing that Mr. Rubrick, who was 
at home, would return thanks for the distinguished mer- 
cies it had been his lot to experience. The dinner was 
excellent. Saunderson attended in full costume, with 
all the former domestics, who had been collected, ex- 
cepting one or tw'o, that had not been heard of since the 
affair of Culloden. 

The cellars were stocked with wine wdiich was pro- 
nounced to be superb, and it had been contrived that the 
Bear of the fotemtain, in the court-yard, should (for that 
night only) play excellent brandy punch, for the benefit 
of the lower orders. 

When the dinner was over, the Baron, about to pro- 
pose a toast, cast a somewhat sorrowful look upon the 


WAVEULEY. 


241 


side-board, which, however, exhibited much of his plate 
that had either been secreted, -or purchased by neigh- 
bouring gentlemen from the soldiery, and by them-gladly 
restored to the original owner. 

“ In the late times,” he said, ‘‘ those must be thankful 
who have saved life and land ; yet when 1 am about to 
pronounce tjiis toast, I cannot but regret an old heir- 
loom, Lady Emily — a poculum poiatorium^ Colonel Tal- 
bot” — 

Here the Baron’s elbow was gently touched by his 
Major Domo, and, turning round, he beheld, in the hands 
of Alexander ab Alexandro, the celebrated cup of Saint 
Duthac, the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine ! 1 question 

if the recovery of his estate afforded him more rapture. 
“ By my honour,” he said, “ one might almost believe 
in brownies and fairies, Lady Emily, when your lady- 
ship is in presence !” 

“ 1 am truly happy,” said Colonel Talbot, “ that, by 
the recovery of this piece of family antiquity, it has fal- 
len within my power to give you some token of my deep 
interest in all that concerns my young friend Edward. 
But, that you may not suspect Lady Emily for a sorcer- 
ess, or me for a conjuror, which is no joke in Scotland, 
I must tell you that Frank Stanley, your friend, who has 
been seized with a tartan fever ever since he heard Ed- 
ward’s tales of old Scottish manners, happened to des- 
cribe to us at second hand this remarkable cup. JMy 
servant, Spontoon, who, like a true old soldier, observes 
everything and says little, gave me afterwards to under- 
stand, that he thought he had seen the piece of plate Mr. 
Stanley mentioned, in the possession of a certain Mrs. 
Nosebaf^ho, having been originally the helpmate of a 
pawnbroker, had found opportunity, during the late un- 

t jasant scenes in Scotland, to trade a little in her old 
e, and so became the depositary of the more valuable 
part of the spoil of half the army. You may believe 
the cup was speedily recovered, and it will give me very 
great pleasure if you allow me to suppose that its value 

VOL. II. 


242 


WAVEllLEY. 


is not diminished by having been restored through my 
means.” 

A tear mingled with the wine which the Baron filled, 
as he proposed a cup of gratitude to Colonel Talbot, ana 
“ The Prosperity of the united Houses of Waverley- 
Honour and Bradwardine !” 

It only remains for me to say, that as no wish was ever 
uttered with more affectionate sincerity, there are few 
which, allowing for the necessary mutability of human 
events, have been, upon the whole, more happily fulfilled. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

A Postscript, which should have been a Preface. 

Our journey is now finished, gentle reader; and if 
your jialience has accompanied me through these sheets, 
the contract is, on your part, strictly fulfilled. Yet, like 
the driver who has received his full hire, I still linger 
near you, and make, with becoming diffidence, a trifling 
additional claim upon your bounty and good nature. You 
are as free, however, to shut the volume of the one pe- 
titioner, as to close your door in the face of the other. 

This should have been a prefatory chapter, but for 
two reasons : First, that most novel readers, as my own 
conscience reminds me, are apt to be guilty of the sin of 
omission respecting that same matter of prefaces ; Sec- 
ondly, that it is a general custom with that clw^gf stu- 
dents, to begin with the last chapter of a wor?; so ^lat, 
after all, these remarks, being introduced last in oi^^^ 
have still the best chance to be read in their proper plaoH 

There is no European nation, which, within the course 
of half a century, or little more, has undergone so com- 
plete a change as this kingdom of Scotland. The effects 
of the insurrection of 1745, — the destruct'on of the pa- 


WAVERLEY. 


243 


triarchal power of tlie Highland chief^, — the abolition of 
the heritable jurisdictions of the Lowland nobility and 
barons, — the total eradication of the Jacobite party, 
which, averse to intermingle with the English, or adopt 
their customs, long continued to pride themselves upon 
maintaining ancient Scottish manners and customs, — 
commenced this innovation. The gradual influx of 
wealth, and extension of commerce, have since united to 
render the present people of Scotland a class of beings 
as different from their grandfathers, as the existing Eng- 
lish are from those of Queen Elizabeth’s time. The 
political and economical effects of these changes have 
been traced by Lord Selkirk with great precision and ac- 
curacy. But the change, though steadily and rapidly 
progressive, has, nevertheless, been gradual ; and, like 
those who drift down the stream of a deep and smooth 
river, we .are not aware of the progress we have made 
until we fix our eye on the now distant point from which 
we have been drifted. Such of the present generation 
as can recollect the last twenty or twenty-five years of 
the eighteenth century, will be fully sensible of the truth 
of this statement ; especially if their acquaintance and 
connexions lay among those who, in my younger time, 
were facetiously called, “ folks of the old leaven,” who 
still cherished a lingering, though hopeless attachment, to 
the house of Stuart. This race has now almost entirely 
vanished from the land, and with it, doubtless, much 
absurd political prejudice ; but, also, many living exam- 
ples of singular and disinterested attachment to the prin- 
ciples of loyalty which they received from their fathers, 
and of old Scottish faith, hospitality, worth, and honour. 

It was my accidental lot, though not born a Highland- 
er, (which may be an apology for much bad Gaelic) to 
reside during my childhood and youth, among persons 
of the above description ; and now, for the purpose of 
preserving some idea of the ancient manners of which I 
have witnessed the almost total extinction, I have embodi- 
ed in imaginary scenes, and ascribed to fictitious charac- 
ters, a part of the incidents which I then received from 


244 


AV AVKULliY. 


those who were actors in them. Indeed, the most ro- 
mantic parts of this narrative are precisely those which 
have a foundation in fact. The exchange of mutual 
protection betw’een a Highland gentleman and an officer 
of rank in the king’s service, together with the spirited 
manner in which the latter asserted his right to return the 
favour he had received, is literally true. The accident by 
a musket-shot, and the heroic reply imputed to Flora, 
relate to a lady of rank not long deceased. And scarce 
a gentleman who was “ in hiding,” after the battle of 
Culloden, but could tell a tale of strange concealments, 
and of wild and hair’s-breadth ’scapes, as extraordinary 
as any which I have ascribed to my heroes. Of this, the 
escape of Charles Edward himself, as the most promi- 
nent, is the most striking example. The accounts of the 
battle of Preston, and skirmish at Clifton, are taken from 
the narrative of intelligent eye-witnesses, and corrected 
from the History of the Rebellion by the late venerable 
author of Douglas. The Lowland Scottish gentleman, 
and the subordinate characters, are not given as individual 
portraits, but are drawn from the general habits of the 
period, of which I have witnessed some remnants in my 
younger days, and partly gathered from tradition. 

It has been my object to describe these persons, not by 
a caricatured and exaggerated use of the national dialect, 
but by their habits, manners, and feelings ; so as in some 
distant degree, to emulate the admirable Irish portraits 
drawn by Miss Edgeworth, so different from the ‘Teagues’ 
and ‘ dear joys’, who so long, with the most perfect fam- 
ily resemblance to each other, occupied the drama and 
the novel. 

I feel no confidence, however, in the manner in which 
I have executed my pimpose. Indeed, so little was 1 
satisfied with my production, tliat 1 laid it aside in an un- 
finished state, and only found it again by mere accident 
among other waste papers, in an old cabinet, the drawers of 
which I was rummaging, in order to accommodate a friend 
with some fishing tackle, after it had been mislaid for sev* 
eral years. Two works upon similar subjects, by female 
authors, whose genius is highly creditable to their coun- 


WAV r.IM.F.Y. 


245 


try have appeared in the interval ; 1 mean IMrs. Ham- 
ilton’s Glenbnrnie, and tlie late Account of Highland 
Superstitions. But the first is confined to the rural 
nabits of Scotland, of which it has given a picture with 
striking and impressive fidelity ; and the traditional rec- 
ords of the respectable and ingenious Mrs. Grant of 
Laggan are of a nature distinct from the fictitious nar- 
rative which 1 have here attempted. 

I would willingly persuade myself, that the preceding 
work will not be found altogether uninteresting. To 
elder persons it will recall scenes and characters familiar 
to their youtli ; and to the rising generation the tale may 
present some idea of the manners of their forefathers. 

Yet I heartily wish that the task of tracing the evan- 
escent manners of his own country had employed the pen 
of the only man in Scotland who could have done it jus- 
tice, — of him so eminently distinguished in elegant liter- 
ature, and whose sketches of Colonel Caustic and 
Umpliraville are perfectly blended with the finer traits of 
national character. 1 should in that case have had more 
pleasure as a reader, than 1 shall ever feel in the pride 
of a successful author, should these sheets confer upon 
me that envied distinction. And as 1 have inverted the 
usual arrangement, placing these remarks at the end of 
the tvork to which they refer, I will venture on a second 
violation of form, by closing the whole with a Dedication ; 

THESE VOLUMES 
BEING RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

TO 

OUR SCOTTISH ADDISON, 

HENRY MACKENZIE, . 

EY 

AN UNKNOWN ADMIRER 


OF 

HIS GENIUS. 


NOTES TO WATEREEY. 


1. Pa^e 12. The Clan of 31ac-Farlane. occupying’ the fastnesses of the 
western side of Loch Lomond, w ere great depredators on the Low' Country, 
and as their excursions were made usually by night, the moon was proverb- 
ially called their lantern. Their celebrated pibroch of Hoggil na?n Bo, which 
is the name of their gathering tune, intimates similar practices, — the sense 
being ; — 

We are bound to drive the bullocks. 

All by hollows, hirsts and hillocks. 

Through the sleet, and through the rain. 

When the moon is beaming low 
On frozen lake and hills of snow, 

Bold and heartily we go ; 

And all for little gain. 

2. Page 15. This noble ruin is dear to my recollection, from associations 
which have been long and painfully broken. It holds a commanding station 
on the banks of the river Teith, and has been one of the largest castles in 
Scotland. Murdock, Duke of Albany, the founder of this stately pile, was 
beheaded on the Caslle-hill of Stirling, I'rom w'hich he might see the towers 
of Doune, the monument of his fallen greatness. 

In 1745-6, as stated in the text, a garrison on the part of the Chevalier 
was put into the castle, then less ruinous than at present. It was ccmanand- 
ed by Mr. Stewart of Balloch, as governor for Prince Charles 5 he was a man 
of property near Callander. 'I'his castle became at that time the actual scene 
of a romantic escape made b}' John Home, the author of Douglas, and some 
other prisoners, who, having' been taken at the battle of Falkirk, were confined 
there by the insurgents. I'he poet, w ho had in his own mind a large stock of 
that romantic and enthusiastic spirit of adventure, which he has described as 
animating the youthful hero of his drama, devised and undertook the perilous 
enterprise of escaping from his prison. He inspired Ins companions with his 
sentiinenls, and when every attempt at oi)en force was deemed hopeless, the\ 
resolved to twist their bed-clothes into ropes, and thus to descend. Four 
persons, w'ith Home himself, reached ll’.e ground in safety. But the rope 
broke w'ith the fifth, who was a tall lusty man. 'I'lie sixth w'as Thomas Bar- 
row, a brave young Englislunan, a particular friend of Home's. Determined 
lo take the risk, even in such unfavourable circumstances, Harrow' committed 
himself to the broken rope, slid down on it as far as it could assist him, and 
then let himself drop. His friends beneath succeeded in breaking his fall. 
Nevertheless, he dislocated his ankle, and had sev'eral of his ribs broken. 
His companions, however, were able to bear him ofl' in safety. 

'riie Highlanders next morning sought for their prisoners, with great activ- 
ity. An old gentleman told the author, he remembered seeing the command- 
er Stew'ai t, 

Bloody with spurring, fiery red w'ith haste, 
riding furiously through the country in quest of the fugitives. 

3. Page 20. The Judges of the Supreme Court of Session in Scotland 
are proverbially termed, among the countr}' people, the Filteen. 

d. Page 20. To go out, or to have been out, in Scotland, was a conventional 
phrase similar to that of the Irish respeciing a man having been up, both 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


247 


having’ reference loan individual who had been engaged in insurrtclion. Ii 
v/as accounted ill-breedin" in Scotland, about forty years since, to use the 
phrase rebellion or rebel, wiicli might be interpreted by some of »he parties 
present as a personal insult. It was also esteemed more polite eVcn for stanch 
Whigs to denominate Charles Edward the Clievalier, than to speak of him as 
the Pretender ; and this kind of accommodating courtesy was usually ob- 
served in society where individuals of each party mixed on friendly terms. 

5. Page 28. The Jacobite sentiments were general among the western 
counties, and in Wales. But although the gi'cat families of the Wynnes, 
the Wyndhams, and others, had come under an actual obligation to join 
Prince Charles if he should land, they had done so under the express stipula- 
tion, that he should be assisted by an auxiliary army of French, without which 
they foresaw the tmterprise would be desperate. Wishing well to his cause, 
therefore, and watching an opportunity to j(»in him, they did not, nevertheless, 
think themselves bound in honour to do so, as he was only supported by a 
body of wild mountaineers, speaking an uncouth dialect, and wearing a sin- 
gular dress. The race up to Derby struck them with more dread than ad- 
miration. But it was difficult to say what the effect might have been, had 
cither the battle of Preston or Falkirk been fought and*k'on during the ad- 
vance into England. 


G. Page 31. Divisions early showed themselves in the Chevalier’s little 
army, not only among the independent chieftains, who were far too proud to 
brook subjection to each other, but between the Scotch, and Charles’s gover- 
nor O’Sullivan, an Irishman by birth, who, with some of his countrymen bred 
in the Irish-Brigade in the service nf the King of France, had an influence 
With the Adventurer, much resented by the Highlanders, who were sensible 
that their own clans made the chjef or rather the only strength of his enter- 

K rise. There was a feud, also, between Lord George Murray, and John 

lurray of Broughton, the Prince’s secretary, whose disunion greatl}' em- 
barrassed the affairs of the Adventurer. In general, a thousand different 
pretensions divided their little army, and finally contributed in no small de- 
gree to its overthrow. 

7. Page 41. The Doutelle was an armed vessel, which brought a small 
supply of money and arms from France for the use of the insurgents. 

8 Page 42. Old women, on whom devoU'ed the duty of lamenting for 
the dead, which the Irish call Keenning. 

9. Page 44. These lines, or something like them, occur in an old Maga- 
zine of the period. 


10. 

Page 44. 

i. e. Contiguous. 

11. 

Page 50. 

They occur in Miss Seward’s fine verses, beginning — 

“ To thy rocks, stormy Lannow, adieu.” 

12. 

Page 52. 

Which is, or was wont to be, the old air of “ Good night 

and joy be wi’ you a’ 1” 

:3. 

I’age 5-1-. 

'Phe main body of the Highland army encamped, or rathe. 


iivouacKcu, in t 
of Duddingstoii. 


14. Page 59. 'Phis circumstance, which is historical, as well as the de 
scriptioii tiiat prcM’edes it, will remind the rentier of the war of La Vcn<lee 
in \\hich the royalists, consisting chiefly of insurgent peasantiy, attached h 


248 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


piodigious and even superstitious interest to the possession of a piece ot 
brass ordnance, which they called Marie Jeane. 

The U ighlanders of an early period were afraid of cannon, with the noise 
and effect of which they were totally unacquainted. It was by means ol 
three or four small pieces of artillery, that the Earls of lluntly and Errol, in 
James Vl.^s time, gained a great victory at Glenlivat, over anumerous High 
land army, commanded by the Earl of Argyle. At the battle of the Bridge 
of Dee, General Middleton obtained by fus artillery a similar success, the 
Higldanders not being able to stand the discliarge of Musket’s Mother, which 
was the name they bestowed on great guns. In an old ballad on the battle of 
the Bridge of Dee, these verses occur : — 

The Highlandmen are pretty men 
For handling sw'ord ancf shield, 

But yet they are but simple men 
To stand a stricken held. 

The Highlandmen are pretty men 
For target and claymore, 

But yet they are but naked men 
I’o face the cannon’s roar. 

• 

For the cannon’s roar on a summer’s night 
Like thunder in the air ; 

Was never man in Highland garb 
Would face the cannon lair. 

But the Highlanders of 1745 had got far beyond the simplicity of their fore- 
fathers, and showed throughout the whole war how little they dreaded artil- 
lery, although the common people still attached some consequence to tne 
possession of the field-piece which led to this disquisition. 

15. Page 60. Bran, the well-known dog of Fingal, is often the theme of 
Highland proverb as well as song. 

16. Page 64. Scoltice for followers. 

17. Page 72. The faithful friend who pointed out the pass by which the 
Highlanders moved from Tranent to Seaton, was Robert Anderson, junior, of 
Whilburgh, a gentleman of property in East Lothian. He had been interro- 
gated by the Lord George Murray concerning the possibility of crossing the 
uncouth and marshy piece of ground which divided the armies, and which he 
described as impracticable. When dismissed, he recollected that there was 
a circuitous path leading eastward through the marsh into the plain, by which 
the Highlanders might turn the flank of Sir John Cope’s position, without being 
exposed to the enemy’s fire. Having mentioned his opinion to Mr. Hepburn 
of Keith, who instantly saw its importance, he was encouraged by that gen- 
tleman to awake Lord George Murray, and communicate llie idea to him. 
Lord George received the information with grateful thanks, and instantly 
awakened Prince Charles, who was sleeping in the field with a bunch of pease 
under his head. The Adventurer received with alacrity the news that there 
was a possibility of bringing an excellently provided army to a decisive battle 
with his own irregular forces. His joy on the occasion was nflt very con- 
sistent with the charge of cowardice brought against him by Chevalier John- 
stone, a discontented follower, w hose Memoirs possess at least as much of a 
romantic as an historical character. Even by the account of the Chevalier 
himself, the Prince w'as at the head of the second line of the Highland army 
during the battle, of wdiich he says, “ It was gained with such rapidity, that 
in the second line, wdiere 1 w'as still by the side of the Prince, we saw no other 
enemy than those who were lying on the ground killed and wounded, though 
we were not more than fiftij paces behind our Jirst Line, running alwaus as Just 
%s we could to overtake them. 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


249 


This passage in the Chevalier's Memoirs places the Prir ce within fifty pace, 
of the heat ot the battle, a position which would never hi’ive been the choice 
nt one unwilling to take a share of its dangers. Indeed, unless the chiefs had 
complied with the young Adventurer’s proposal to lead the van in person 
it does not appear that he could have been deeper in the action. 

18. Page 76. The death of this good Christian and gallant man is thus 
P ven by his affectionate biographer, Dr. Doddridge, from the evidence ol 
eye witnesses : 

“ He continued all night under arms, wrapped up his cloak, and generally 
sheltered under a rick of barley, which happened to be in the field. About 
three in the morning he called his domestic servants to him, of which there 
were four in waiting. He dismissed three of them with most afiectionate 
Christian advice, and such solemn charges relating to the performance of their 
duty, and the care of their souls, as seemed plainly to intimate that he appre- 
hended it was at least very probable he was taking his last farewell of them. 
There is great reason to believe that he spent the little remainder of the time, 
which could not be much above an hour, in those devout exercises of soul 
w hich had been so long habitual to hun, and to which so many circumstances 
did then concur to call him. The army was alarmed by break of day, by the 
noise of the rebels’ approach, and the attack was made before sunrise, yet 
when it w'as light enough to discern what passed. As soon as the enemy 
came within gun-shot, they made a furious fire ; and it is said that the dra- 
goons which constituted the left w'ing, immediately fled. The Colonel, at the 
beginning of the onset, which in the whole lasted but a few minutes, received 
a wound by a bullet in his left breast, which made him give a sudden spring 
in his saddle ; upon w'hich his servant, w'ho led the horse, would have per- 
suaded him to retreat, but he said it was only a wound in the flesh, and fought 
on, though he presently after received a shot in iiis right thigh. In the mean 
time, it was discerned that some of the enemy fell by him, and particularly 
one man, who had made him a treacherous visit but a few days before, with 
great profession of zeal for the present establishment. 

Events of this kind pass in less time than the description of them can be 
WTitten, or than it can be read. 'I'he Colonel was for a few moments sup- 
ported by his men, and particularly by that worthy person Lieutenant-Colonel 
Whitney, who was shot through the arm here, and a few months after fell 
nobly at the battle of Falkirk, and by Lieutenant West, a man of distin- 
guished bravery, as also by about fifteen dragoons, who stood by him to the 
last. But after a feint fire, the regiment in general was seized with a panic ; 
and though their Colonel and some other gallant officers did what they could 
to rally them once or twice, they at last took a precipitate flight. And just 
in the moment when Colonel Gardiner seemed to be making a pause to de- 
liberate what duty required him to do in such circumstances, an accident 
happened, which must, ] think, in the judgment of every worthy and generous 
man, be allowed a sufficient apology for exposing his life to so great hazard, 
when his regiment had left him. He saw a party of the foot, who were then 
bravely fighting near him, and whom he was ordered to support, had no offi- 
cer to head them 5 upon vvhicljjhe said eagerly, in the hearing of the person 
from whom 1 had this account,^ These brave fellows will be cut to pieces foi 
want of a commander,’ or words to that effect j which while he was speak 
ing, he rode up to them and e^ed out, ‘ Fire on, mv lads, and fear nothing.’ 
But just as the words were out of his mouth, a Highlander advanced towards 
him with a scythe fastened to a long pole, with which he gave him so oread- 
ful a wound on his right arm, that his sword dropped ort of his hand ; and 
at the Sa.me time several others coming about him while he was thus dread- 
fully entangled vvith that cruel weapon, he was dragged off from his horse. 
I’he moment he fell, another Highfender, who, if the king’s evidence at Car 
lisle may be credited, (as 1 know not why they should not, thougn the unhappy 
creature died denying it,) was one Rlac-Naught, who was executed about a 
^ear after, gave him a stroke either with a broadsword or a Lochaber-axe 


250 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


(for my informant could not exactly distinguish) on the hinder part of his 
head, which was the mortal blow. All that his faithful attendant saw furthei 
at this time was, that as his hat was falling ofl’, he took it in his left hand and 
waved it as a signal to him to retreat, and added, what were the last words 
he ever heard him speak, ' Take care of yourself upon which the servant 
retired.” — Some remo.rkable Passages in the Life of Cclonel James Gardiner ^ 
by P. Doddridge, D. D. London, 1747, p. 187. 

1 may remark on this extract, that it confirms the account given in the text 
of the resistance offered by some of the English infantry. Surprised by a 
force of a peculiar and unusual description, their opposition could not be long 
or formidable, especially as they were deserted by the cavalry, and those 
who undertook to manage the artillery. But although the affair was soon 
decided, I have always understood that many of the infantry showed an in- 
clination to do their duty. 

19. I’age 77. It is scarcely necessary to say, that the character of this 
brutal young Laird is entirely imaginary. A gentleman, however, who re- 
sembled Baimawhapplc in the article of courage only, fell at Preston in the 
manner described. A Perthshire gentleman of high Wonour and respcctabil 
vly, one of the handful of cavalry who followed the fortunes of Charles Ed- 
ward, pursued the fugitive dragoons almost alone till near St. Clement’s 
Wells, where the efforts of some of the officers had prevailed on a few of 
them to make a momentary stand. Perceiving at this moment that they were 
pursued by only one man and a couple of servants, they turned upon him 
and cut him down with their swords. I remember, when a child, sitting on 
his grave, where the grass long grew rank and green, distinguishing it from 
the rest of the field. A female of the family then residing at St. Clement’s 
Wells used to tell me the tragedy of which she had been an eye-w'itness, 
and showed me in evidence one of the silver clasps of the unfortunate gen 
tleman’s waistcoat. 

20. Page 89. Charles Edward took up his quarters after the battle at 
Pinkie-house, adjoining to Musselburgh. 

21. Page 90. The name of Andrea de Ferrara, is inscribed on all the 
Scottish broadswords w hich are accounted of peculiar excellence. Who this 
artist was, what w'ere his fortunes, and when he flourished, have hitherto de- 
fied the research of antiquaries ; only it is in general believed that Andrea de 
Ferrara was a Spanish or Italian artificer, brought over hy James the IV. or 
V. to instruct the Scots in the manufacture of sword blades. Most barba- 
rous nations excel in the fabrica.tion of arms 5 and the Scots had attained 
great proficiency in forging swords, so early as the field of Pinkie ; at which 
period the historian Patten describes them as '' all notably broad and thin, 
universally made to slice, and of such exceeding good temper, that as I never 
saw' any so good, so 1 think it hard to devise better.” — {Account of SemerseVs 
Expedition. ) 

It may be observed, that the best and most genuine Andrea Feiraras have 
a crown marked on the blades. 

22. Page 94. The clergyman’s name w'as Mac-Vicar. Protected by the 
cannon of the Castle, he preached every Sunday in the \Vest Kirk, while the 
Highlanders were in possession of Edinburgh j and it was in presence of 
some of the Jacobites that he prayed for Prince Charles Edward in the tercLS 
quoted in the text. 

23. Page 95. The incident here said to have happened to Flora Mac- 
Ivoi, actually befi'll Miss Nairne, a lady wdlh whom the author had the pleas- 
ure of being acquainted. As the Highrand army rushed into Edinburgh, 
Miss Nairne, like other ladies who approved of their cause, stood waving hei 
handkerchief from a balcony, when a ball from a Highlai der’s musket, vdiicb 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


25 J 


ivas disrhar^od by accident, grazed her forehead. ^^Thai k God/' said she, 
the instant she recovered, that the accident liappeiied lo me, whose priu" 
riples are kuov/n. Had it hel’allen a Whig, they would ha\e said it was done 
Oil purpose." 

21-, Page IM. The Author of Waverley has been charged with painting 
the young Adventurer in colours n)ore aniial)le than his character deser*’ed, 
l5ul having known many individutils who were near his j^erson, he has been 
lescribed according to the light in wliicli lliose eye-witnesses saw his temper 
air* qualifications. Something must be allowed, no doi(bl,,.lo the natural ex- 
agirerations o( those wlio remembered him as the bold and adventuious PrineOj 
m whose cause they had braved death and ruin j but is their evidence to give 
piiK^c eiuircly to that of a single malecontent / • 

1 have already noticed the imputations thrown by the Chevalier Johnstone 
on the Prince’s courage, fiul some part at least of that genileman’s tale is 
purely romantic. It would not. for instance, be supposed, that at tlie lime 
he is favouring us with the liighly wrouglu account of his amour with the 
adorable Peggie, the Chevalier /ohnslone was a married man, wliose grand- 
'mld is now alive, or that the whole circumslanlinl story concerning the 
u rageous vengeance taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a Presbyterian 
.ergyman, is tMilirely apocryphal At the same lime it may be admitted, 
nal the Ib’ince, like others of his family, did not esteem ilie services dune 
aim :>y his adherents so highly as he ought. Edn<*ate<l in liigh ideas of liis 
iiereditary right, lie has been supuosed to liave held every exertion aiul sac- 
rifice made in his cause as loo inucl i.!ie duly of the person nuiking it, lo 
merit extravagant gratitud*^ on his part. Dr. King's evhlence (which his 
leaving the Jacobite interest renders somewhat doubtful) goes to strengthen 
tins opinion. 

Tile ingenious editor of Jolmscone's Memoirs has quoted a story said to be 
told by Helvetius, stating viial I'rince (Jharles Edward, far from voluntarily 
embarking on his daring cxpedilioii, was literally bound liand and fool, and 
to which he seems disposed to yield credit. Now, it being a lad as well known 
as any in liis history, and, so far as I know, entirely undisj^utod, that the Prince's 
personal entreaties c\nd urgency positively forced l]ois<laIc and Lochiel into 
insuni;clion, when tliey were earnestly desirous that he would ])Ul off h\^ at- 
tempt until he could obtain a sufiicienl force from France, it will be very dif- 
ficult lo reconcile his alleged reluctance to undertake the expedition, with his 
desperately insisting on carrying the rising into effect, against the advice and 
entreat y of his most jiowcrf ul and most sage partisans. Surely a man who had 
Oeen carried bound on board the vessel which brought him loso desperate an 
enterprise, would have taken the opportunity afforded by the reluctance of 
his partisans, to return to France in safety. 

It IS averred in Johnstone's Memoirs, that Charles Edward left the field of 
Culloden without cloing the utmost lo dispute the victory ; and, to give the 
evidence on both sides, there is in existence the more trusty-worthy teslimon} 
of Lord Elcho, who stales, that he himself earnestly exhorted llie Prince lo 
charge at the head of the left wing, which was entire, and retrieve the day or 
die with honour And on his counsel being declined. Lord Elcho took leavo 
of him with a bitter execration, swearing he would never look on his face 
again, and kept his word. 

On the other hand, it seems to^ have been the opinion of almost all the 
other officers, that the day was irretrievably lost, one wing of the Highland- 
ers being entirely routed, the rest of the army out-numbered, out-llanked^ 
ana in a condition totally hopeless. In this situation of things, the Irish offi- 
cers who surrounded Charles's person interfered lo force him off the field, 
A Cornet, who was close to the Prince, left a strong attestation, that he had 
seen Sir Thomas Sheridan seize the bridle of his horse, and turn him round. 
There is some discrepancy of evidence ; but the opinion of Lord Elcho, a 
man of fiery temper, and desperate at the ruin which he l)eheld impending, 
cannot fairly be taken, in prejudice of a character for courage which is inti 


1252 


NOTES TO VVAVERLET. 


nnaled oy the nature of the enterprise itself, hy the Prince’s eag’erness to fight 
DU all occasions, hy his dclcrmiiialion to advance from Derl)y to London, sind 
hy the presence of mind which lie maliifestcd during the romantic perils of his 
escape. 'I'lie author is far from claiming for this unlortunale person the praise 
due to splendid talents ; but he continues to be of opinion, that at the perioo 
of his enterprise, he had a mind capable of facing danger and aspiring to fame. 

'i'hal Charles Edward had the advantages of a gracei'ul presence, courtesy, 
and an address and manner becoming his station, the author never heard dis- 
puted by any who approached his person, nor docs he conceive that these qual- 
ties are overcharged in the present attempt to sketch his portrait. 'I’lie follow- 
mgextractscorroborativeofthegeneralopinion respecting the I’rince’s amiable 
disposition, are taken from a manuscript account of his romantic expedition, 
by James Maxwell of Kirkconnell, of which I possess a copy, by the Irieiulship 
o‘‘ J. Menzics. Esq. of Pitfoddells. The author, though partial to the I’rince, 
whom he failhftdly followed, seems to have been a lair and candid man, and 
well acquainted with the intrigues among the Adventurer’s council ; — 

“ Every body was mightily taken with the Prince’s figu>-e and personal 
behaviour. There was but one voice about them ’J'ho.se whom interest or 
prejudice made a runaway to his cause, could not help acknowledging that 
they wished him well in all other respects, and could hardly blame him lor his 
present undertaking. Sundry things had concurred to raise his character to 
the highest pitch, besides the greatness of the enterprise, and the conduct that 
had hitherto appeared in the execution of it. 'I'here were several instances 
of good-nature and humanity' that had made a great impression on people’s 
minds. I shall confine myself to two or three. Immediatel}’ alter the battle, 
as the Prince w'as riding along the ground that Cope’s army had occupied a 
few minutes before, one of the officers came up to congratulate him, and said, 
pointing to the killed, ‘ Sir, there are your enemies at your feet.’ The I rince, 
far from exulting, expressed a great deal of compassion for his father’s delud- 
ed subjects, whom he declared he was heartily sorry to see in that posture. 
Next day, while the Prince was at Pinkie-house, a citizen of Edinburgh came 
to make some representation to Secretary Murray about the tents that city 
was ordered to furnish against a certain day. Murray happened to be out of 
the way, which the Prince hearing of, called to have the gentleman brough| 
to him, saying, he would rather despatch the business, whatever it was, himir 
self, than have the gentleman wait, which he did, by granting every thing 
that was asked. So much affability in a young prince, flushed with victory, 
drew' encomiums even from his enemies. .But what gave the people the 
highest idea of him, was the negative he gave to a thing that very nearly 
concerned his interest, and upon which the success of his enterprise perhaps 
depended. It w'as proposed to send one of the prisoners to London, to de- 
mand of that court a cartel for the exchange of prisoners taken, and to be 
taken, during this w'ar, and to intimate that a refusal w ould be looked upon 
as a resolution on their part to give no quarter. It was visible a cartel w ould 
be of great advantage to the Prince’s affairs ; his friends w'ould be more 
readv to declare for him if they had nothing to fear but the chance of war in 
the held ; and if the court of London refused to settle a cartel, the Prince 
was authorieed to treat his prisoners in the same manner theEIcctor of Han- 
over was determined to treat such of the Prince’s friends as might fall into 
his hands : it was urged that a fwv examples w'ould compel the court of Lon- 
don to comply. It W’as to be presumed tlvat the officers of the English army 
W'ould make a point of it. 'Phey had never engaged in the service, but upon 
such terms as are in use among all civilized nations, audit could be no stain 
upon their honour to lay dow'ii their commissions if these terms were not ob- 
served, and that ow'ing to the obstinacy of their own Prince. 'J’hough this 
scheme was plausible, and represented as very important, the Prince could 
never be brought into it ; it was behnv him, he said, to make empty threats, 
and he would never put such as those into execution ; he would never in cola 
blood take aw'ay lives w'hich he had saved in heat of action, at the peril ol 
his own. 'These were not the only proofs of good-nature the Prince gave 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


263 


ftbnut trn.s lime. Every day produced somelhinp^ new of this kina. These 
Ihiiiji^s sollened the nj^our ot ainililnr}' govenimeul, which was only imputed 
lo tho necessity ol his atiairs, and which he endeavoured to make as gentle 
and easy as possihle/' 

It has hcen said^ that the Prince somcliines exacted more slate and cer- 
emonial than setmted lo suit his condition ; Iml, on the other hand, some 
strictness ofetiiiuctte was altogether indispensable where he must otherwise 
liave l)een oxpos(‘<l to general intrusion, lie could also endure, with a good 
grace, the nUorls which his affectation of ceremony sometimes exposocfliiin 
to. It is said, lor examj)lc, that Grant of Gienmonston iiaving made a hasty 
inarcli lo join Charles, at the head ol* his clan, nislicd into the Prince’s pres- 
ence at Holyrood, willi unceremonious haste, without Iiaving attended to the 
dunes ot tlie toilet. 'I'he I^rince received him kindly, but not wiilioui alhnt 
that a p.ro vious interview vvitli the barber might not iiave been wholly un- 
riocessary. “ It is not beardless boys/^ answered the displeased Chief 
\\ lio are to do your Royal Highness’s Tlic Clievalicr look ilie rebuke 

in good pari. 

On the whole, if Prince Charles had concluded his life soon after his 
miraculous escape, his character in history must have stood very high. As it 
was, his station is among lliotjc. a certain brilliant portion of w hose life lorms 
a remarkable contrast to all wliich precedes, and all which follows it. 


25. 


Page 151 


The following account of the skirmish at Clifton is extract- 
ed from the manuscript ftlemoirs of Evan iMacplicrsou of Cluny, Chiel oi the 
clan Maepherson. w ho had the merit of supporting the principal brunt of that 
spirited adair, 'I'he IMemuirs appear lo have been comjjosed about 1755, only 
ten years alter the action had taken place. 'I'hey were written in France, 
where that gallant Chief resided in exile, which accounts for some Gallicisms 
which occur in the narrative. 

In the Prince’s return from Derby hack tow'ards Scotland, iny Lord George 
Murray. Licuteunnl-CJeneral, cheerlully charged himself wiili ilie command 
of the rear; a post, which, although honourable, was attended with great dan- 
ger, many <!iibctdtios, and no small fatigue ; for the Ib ince being api)rehensive 
that his rclreak to Scotland might be cut off by Marlschall Wade, who lay lo 
the nortliu anl oi him with an army much superior to w hat H. R. 11. had, while 
the Duke of Coml)erla!id with his whole cavalrie followed hard in the rear, 
was ol>!igcd to hasten his marches. It was not, ihcrelore, possible lor the 
nriilirielo march so fast as the Prince’s army, in thede[)l[i of wiiner. extremely 
bail weailier, and tlie worst roacls in England : so Lord George Murray was 
obliged often to continue his marches long after it was dark, almost every 
night while at the same lime he had fre(|uent allarnis and disturbances from 
the Duke of (^omberland’s a<ivanc’d parties. 'Powards the evening of the 
twentie-eight December, 1745, the Prince entered the town of Penritn,in the 
Province of Comberland. Rut as Lord George Murray could not bring up 
the 'irlilirle so fast as he wou’d have wish’d, he was oblig’d to pass the iiiglvl 
six miles short of that town, together with the regiment of MacDoucI of Glen- 
garrie, which that day lia[>pened to have the arrear guard. 'J’hc IVince, in 
order to refresh his annie. and to give My I.ord George and the artilirie lime 
lo come up, resolved lo sejour lhc2Dih at Penrith; so ordered his little army 
lo appear in the morning under arms, in order lo be reviewetl, and lo know^ in 
wdial manner the numbers stood from his haveing entered England. It did 
not at that time amount to 5000 fool in all, with about 400 cavalrie, compos’d 
of the noblesse who serv’d as volunteers, pari of whom form’d a first troop 
of guards for the Prince, under the command of My l-ord Elchoe,uow Comte 
de Weems, w4io, being proscribed, is presently in France. Another part 
formed a second troop of guards under the cominantl of My Lord RabMirino, 
w4io was helieaded at the Towner of Loiulon. A third part serv’d uiuler My 
Lord le Comte de Kilmarnock, w ho w as likewise beheaded at the '1 ow'er. A 
lourih part serv’d under My Lord Pilsligo, w ho is aJso proscribed ; which cav* 

25 VOL. II. 


254 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


alrie, tho’ very few in numbers, being all Noblesse, were very brave, and ol 
infinite advantage to the foot, not only in the day of battle, but in serving as 
advanced guards on the several marches, and in patrolin^ dureing the night 
on the different roads which led towards the towns where tne army happened 
to quarter. 

While this small army was out in a body on the 29th December, upon a 
riseing ground to the northward of Penrith, jiassing review, 31ons.de Cluny 
with his tribe, was ordered to the bridge of Clifton, about a mile to southward 
of Penrith, after having pass’d in review before Mens. Pattullo, who w'as 
charged with the inspection of the troops, and was likewise Quarter Master 
General of the army, and is now in France. They remained under arms at 
the Bridge, waiting the arrival of My Lord George Murray with the artilirie, 
whom Mons. de Cfuny had orders to cover in passing the bridge. They ar- 
rived about sunset closely pursued by the Duke of Coinberland w'ilh the whole 
bodie of his cavalrie, reckoned upwards of 3000 strong, about a thousand ol 
whom, as near as might be computed, dismounted, in order to cut off the pas- 
sage of the artilirie towards the bridge, while the Duke and the others re- 
mained on horseback in order to attack the rear. 3Iy Lord George Murray 
advanced, and although he found Mons. de Cluny and his tribe in good spirits 
under arms, yet the circumstance appear’d extremely delicate. The numbers 
were vastly unequall, and the attack seem’d very dangerous 5 so Rly Lord 
George declin’d giving orders to such time as he ask’d Mons. de Cluny’s 
opinion. ‘ I will attack them with all my heart,’ says Mons.de Cluny, Mf you 
order me.’ ‘ I do order it then,’ answered 3Iy Lord George, and immediately 
went on himself along wiihMons.de Cluny, and fought sword in hand on foot, 
at the head of the single tribe of 31acpherson.s. I'hey in a moment made their 
way through a strong hedge of thorns, under the cover whereof the cavalrie 
had taken their station, in the struggle of passing which hedge My Lord 
George .Murray, being dressed en inoiito<;;nard, as all the army were, lost his 
bonct and wig ; so continued to fight bear-headed during the action. They 
at first made a brisk discharge of their fire arms on the enemy, then attacked 
them with their sabres, and made a great slaughter a considerable time, which 
obliged Coinberland and his cavalrie to fly with precipitation and in great 
confusion ; in so much, that if the Prince had been provided in a sufficient 
number of cavalrie to have taken advantage of the disorder, it is beyond 
question that the Duke of Coinberland and tliebulk of his cavalrie had been 
taken prisoners. By this time it was so dark that it was not possible to view 
or number the slain who filled all the ditches which happened to be on the 
ground where they stood. But it was computed that, besides those who went 
off wounded, upwards of a hundred at least were left on the spot, among 
whom was Colonel Ilonywood, who commanded the dismounted cavalrie, 
whose sabre of considerable value Mons. de Cluny Drought off and still pre- 
serves ; and his tribe lykeways brought off many arms ; — the Colonel was 
afterwards taken up, and, his wounds being dress’d, with great difficultie re- 
covered. 31ons. de Cluny lost only in the action twelve men, of whom some 
haveingbeen only wounded, fell afterwards into the hands of the enemy, and 
were sent as slaves to America, whence several of them returned, and one of 
them is now in France, a sergeant in the Regiment of Royal Scots. How 
soon the accounts of the enemies’ approach had reached the Prince, H. R. H. 
had immediately ordered Mi-Lord le Comte de Nairne, Brigadier, who, being 
proscribed, is now in France, with the three batalions of the Duke of Athol, 
the batalion of the Duke of Perth, and some other troops under his command, 
»n order to support Cluny, and to bring off the artilirie. But the action was 
intirely over, before the Comte de N airne, with his command, cou’d reach nigh 
to the place. They therefore return’d all to Penrith, and the artilirie marched 
up in good order. Nor did the Duke of Comberland ever afterwards dare to 
fome within a day’s march of the Prince and his army dureing the course of 
all that retreat, which was conducted with great prudence and safety wheu in 
tome manner surrounded by enemies.” 


NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 


255 


26. Page 167. As the lieathcn deities contracted an indelible obligatioa 
If they swore by Styx, the Scottish Highlanders had usually some peculiai 
lolemnity attached to an oath, which they intended should be binding on them, 
Very freqiiently it consisted in laying their hand, as they swore, on their own 
drawn dirk j which dagger, becoming a party to the transaction, was invoked 
to punish any breach of faith. But by whatever ritual the oath was sanctioned, 
the party was extremely desirous to keep secret what the especial oath was, 
which he considered as irrevocable. This was a matter of great convenience, 
as he felt no scruple in breaking his asseveration, when made in any other 
form than that which he accounted as peculiarly solemn ; and therefore read- 
ily granted any engagement which bound him no longer than he inclined. 
Whereas, if the oath which he accounted inviolable was once publicly known, 
no party with whom he might have occasion to contract, would have rested 
satisfied with any other. Louis XI. of France practised the same sophistry, 
for he also had a peculiar species of oath, the only one which he was ever 
known to respect, and which, therefore, he was very unwilling to pledge. 
The only engagement which that wily tyrant accounted binding upon him, 
was an oath by tlie Holy Cross of Saint Lo d'Angers, which contained a por- 
tion of the True Cross. If he prevaricated after taking this oath, Louis be- 
lieved he should die within the year. 'J'he Constable St. Paul, being invited 
to a personal conference with Louis, refused to meet the kingunless he would 
agree lo ensure him safe conduct under sanction of this oath. But, says 
Comines, the king replied, he would never again pledge that engagement to 
mortal man, though he was willing to take any other oath which could be de- 
vised. The treaty broke off, therefore, after much chaffering concerningthe 
nature of the vow which Louis was to take. Such is the difference between 
the dictates of superstition and those of conscience. 

27. Page 179. A pair of chestnut-trees, destroyed, the one entirely, and 
the other in part, by such a mischievous and wanton act of revenge, grew at 
Invergarry Castle, the fastness of MacDonald of Glengarry. 

28. Page 179. The first three couplets are from an old ballad, called th« 
Border Widow’s Lament. 


END OP WAYEilLEY, 


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